


The Princess Who Fell From the Sky

by Fliggy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, 天空の城ラピュタ | Tenkuu no Shiro Laputa | Laputa: Castle in the Sky
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Ancient Technology, Gen, Light-Hearted, Magic Crystals, Miyazaki-Inspired, Rare Pairings, Sky Pirates, Zekerets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-05-04 17:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 28,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14598165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fliggy/pseuds/Fliggy
Summary: Legends say that hundreds of years ago, the flying city of Laputa ruled the Earth using the power of the Titans. Most people believe that the city is just a myth, but Eren Yeager's father died trying to prove otherwise, and now, Eren's determined to finish what his father started. When a mysterious girl named Krista falls from the sky, holding an amulet of incredible power, Eren realizes he may have unlocked the secret path back to Laputa.But he's not the only one on the city's trail. The Ackerman gang is determined to take the crystal for themselves. Meanwhile, a special division of the army is intent on capturing Laputa's power. Eren and Krista must find a way to escape both Levi's pirates and the forces led by the mysterious colonel Zeke... who may have a few secrets of his own.Inspired by SnK's Uprising arc and Miyazaki's Castle in the Sky. Some light shipping (with rarepairs!), but mostly will focus on the adventure/sci-fi aspects. Comments & feedback appreciated!





	1. Prologue

The dragonfly wings of their slender craft beat against the grey clouds. In the passenger seat, Mikasa Ackerman flipped a knife, and watched the dark sky for a hint of their target. Her motions were effortless, even in the roaring wind. Below her, hands on the steering wheel, Levi piloted.

 “There.” Mikasa said. The fin of an airship jutted out between two puffs of storm.

“It’s the one?” Levi asked, his voice a measured drawl.

“It’s Zeke’s ship. I’m sure,” she said.

“Signal to Hange.”

Over the bellow of the wind and the slight pellets of rain, there was no way for the pirates to easily talk to one another, not while they soared the open sky. But they’d developed another method. Deftly, Mikasa reached for a yellow canister and fit it into her rifle. Lifted it up to her shoulder, leaned against the side of the dragonfly, and fired.

A trail of yellow smoke split the skyline. A few moments later, three more dragonfly crafts burst from cloud, their wings buzzing furiously. Hange and Moblit commandeered one, Petra and Olou another, Kenny and Uri a third. The fighting force of the Ackerman gang.

Below them, the huge airship was descending back into the stormcloud from which it had emerged. A distant thunderbolt lit up the sky. Mikasa slid a red flare into the gun and pointed it in the direction of the ship. “Ready?” she asked.

Levi. “Let’s get that crystal.”

* * *

 

In a small room made of pigskin and aluminum, Krista sat and watched the raindrops spray across the window. The airship bounced and rolled in the storm, like a boat battered by waves. The rhythm reminded her of home, back on the estate, the trips out on the lake with –

_No._

She forced the memories down, staring out, resolute, at the grey-dark backdrop of the sky. She wasn’t that person anymore. _I’m just a scared little girl, who found a crystal. That’s all._ Almost without thinking, one hand slipped to the amulet she wore around her neck, its thin band of wire, and in the center, a light blue stone, adorned with a small, crimson crest.

_My name is Krista Lenz, and I’m no one of importance._

Out of nowhere, a red trail of smoke erupted from the clouds, flashing close by the window, interrupting her thoughts. She gasped and stumbled backwards, landing with a thump on the floor.

Next to her, the tall, thin guard looked up. “What?” He glanced out the window, then shouted. “Zeke!”

The door opened. In he came, assessing the room. Calm, collected, the man with glasses and the pale blond, shaggy beard. The war chief. Zeke. “What’s going on?” He looked down at Krista, and she swallowed the urge to scream. “Did you do something?” he asked.

The tall, thin guard, Bertholdt, pointed to the window. Zeke’s eyes followed his gesture to the thin trace of smoke. “Ah.” His eyes narrowed. “Levi.”

“What do we do, boss?” Bertholdt asked.

“We outnumber them. You stay here, barricade the door in case they try to get in, and make sure we keep that crystal safe.” He glanced at Krista. “And keep an eye on the girl. I’ll grab the rest of the warriors and repel boarding.”

“Got it, chief,” Bertholdt said. “Leave it to me.”

Zeke left, and Bertholdt locked the door, then began sliding the bench towards it. He cursed as one side caught on an exposed floor pipe. “Piece of crap. Should have gotten a finished aircraft.”

“Do you need any help?” Krista asked. _I need to be polite. I need to be sweet._

“No.” Bertholdt said. “All you need to do is stay there and don’t do anything stupid. Zeke will take care of this. Not even the famed Ackerman pirates are a match for – ” but then, midsentence, a loud boom, and a crash, and the entire airship seemed to flip. Krista screamed as the world spun, and she landed hard against something, with a _crack._

Her vision went fuzzy, and when it cleared, she realized the airship had righted—it had jerked to the side and she’d fallen against the window. And there, in the corner, lay Bertholdt. His eyes were closed, blood streaming down his face. He’d collided with the wall.

“Mr. Bertholdt?”

He didn’t respond.

From outside, she heard voices, unfamiliar ones. “She’s in there.” A woman’s voice, low and rhythmic. Then the door shook. “It’s locked,” another voice said. “The key doesn’t fit.”

And then, a third voice that sent shivers down her spine. “I’ll kick it open.”

The pirates. She looked around for something to defend herself with, but all could she find was a broken piece of wood. There was a thud against the door. Then another.

She glanced towards the window.

* * *

 

With a final twist, Levi brought his foot up and kicked the door off its hinges. The sound of it slamming down echoed in the metal hull of the airship. He strode in, blade at the ready. Kenny ducked in behind him, and Mikasa, with a cautious look towards the corridor, came through last.

“She’s not here.” Levi said.

The girl was nowhere to be seen. Only an unconscious guard and an upturned bench.

“Wait a second,” Kenny said, a grin on his face. He strode over to the window. “It’s open.” He gripped the bottom with both hands and slid it up. “There’s an old trick I used to hear about, but I never seen anybody actually try it…”

He poked his head out the window, turned, and laughed. Mikasa heard a girl’s scream. “She’s outside!” Kenny shouted. “She’s climbin’ on the outside of the airship!”

Mikasa dashed from the room, sprinted down the corridor, and threw open an adjacent door. Reaching for her knife, she pried open the window, and jerked it up. She stuck her head out.

There, on the hard skin of the airship, clinging to a thin metal bar, buffeted by the wind and the rain—the girl. And around her neck… Mikasa breathed in. _The crystal._

The girl turned, terror in her eyes.

“Give it here!” Mikasa said, her voice a snarl. “Give it to me!”

The girl looked back at her, and in a voice soft, barely audible above the wind, said, “No. I—I can’t.” Then. A bright flash of lightning from a nearby cloud, the roar of thunder, and the ship quaked. The girl screamed, and Mikasa saw her arms slip from the bar.

“No!” Mikasa cried, as the girl tumbled from the side of the airship. “No!” Desperately, she snatched for the necklace, but too late.

The girl fell. She disappeared down, down, into the darkness of the clouds below.

Kenny's laughter came from the other window. “Well,” he said. “There goes your crystal.”


	2. The Power of a Crystal

“Mr. Hannes! You really shouldn’t be operating machinery while drunk!”

Over the clamor of pistons and steam, his words were lost. “Mr. Hannes, please!” Eren pounded his fist against the glass, desperate for his boss’s attention. Inside the control room, Hannes the minecart operator cheerfully pulled the lever. He glanced over at Eren. “S’fine, Eren, s’no big deal.”

There was a _clack-clack-clack_ as the lift rumbled into motion. Deep below the surface, the rest of the miners would be returning with ore. As Hannes’ assistant, it was Eren’s job to help operate the machinery at the surface of the mine, which made sure the workers could descend and return safely.

Hannes stumbling back from the village bar with liquor on his breath did not make Eren’s job any easier.

“Mr. Hannes, what if there’s an emergency?”

Hannes stared back at him slack-jawed for about eight seconds, then said. “What kind of emergency?”

Eren gasped in disbelief. “I don’t believe this! What if the automatic brakes stop working and we have to switch to manual? Would you be able to operate the lift drunk?”

“Hah. Eren, this here machinery’s run smoothly for a hundred years, now— _hic_ —I can’t picture it failing today.”

Eren clenched his fists. “My father always used to say it’s dangerous to get complacent – hold on… what’s that thing?” His eye was drawn by a flash in the night sky. He squinted. “There’s… some kind of light. It’s falling… it’s coming closer. Mr. Hannes, do you see that?”

“Hm?” Hannes looked up drowsily. “There’s a whole lotta lights in the night sky, Eren… s’called stars…”

“Ugh, never mind, you damn drunkard. I’ll be right back.” The light was descending, slow but steady, towards the center of the excavation. Eren scrambled over pneumatic pumps, exhaust pipes and clockwork drills, making his way closer. _It’s not just a light_ , he realized. _It’s… it’s a girl?_

But the girl was _floating_. She sank through the air as if it were water, and gravity were only her briefest acquaintance. Around her neck, an amulet sparkled—the flash he’d seen in the night.

The light from her necklace drenched her face, illuminating blonde hair and closed eyed. _Could it be?_ Eren felt a shiver down his spine. A girl literally falling from heaven? _A goddess?_

Without thinking, he reached his hands out, and she floated gently into his arms. She was sleeping—her expression peaceful. As he held her, the crystal hanging around her neck slowly changed color, the light it emitted quietly fading.

The moment the crystal went dark, the girl stopped being weightless. Eren almost dropped her in surprise, but managed to recover, and set her down nearby on a copper plank. “Uh…” he looked at her, then looked back at Hannes in the control room, and then back at her. _Okay, you just stay put for one second._ He took his coat off and draped it over her like a blanket, hoping it would at least make the plank more comfortable. Then, he took off. “Mr. Hannes!”

But Hannes was in no position to talk about floating girls or magic crystals. The automatic brakes had just failed.

 

* * *

 

_Meanwhile…_

_10,000 feet above the mining town of Shiganshina, a battered airship circles the night sky. While Eren and Hannes struggle to prevent mechanical catastrophe, the military assesses the damage they received doing battle with the Ackerman gang._

 

Brigade Commander Niles Dok surveyed the wreckage of the mess hall. Destroyed tables, ruined chairs, and slight punctures in the airship’s exterior. He turned and shook his head.

“Damn. Zeke really got his ass handed to him, didn’t he?”

The soldier next to him, Erwin Smith, examined some of the puncture holes. He had a thoughtful expression. “Some of these aren’t recent. This airship was already secondhand.” He looked at Niles. “I knew the crown was short on resources, but I didn’t think our equipment would be in such bad shape…”

“It’s the same everywhere,” Niles said. “That’s why they’ve granted Zeke so much power. If those delusions about Laputa and its treasure turn out true, it might be enough to save the government from bankruptcy.”

“Delusions?” The hint of a smile about Erwin’s lips. “I take it you still don’t believe it exists?”

Niles frowned. “Oh. I forgot about your childhood obsession with Laputa. You were always a weird kid, Erwin. Well, the king’s fallen for your fairy tale. Good for you.”

“Hm.” Erwin ran his left hand gently across the membrane of the airship. “Tell me, Niles,” he said.  “Don’t you find it odd how quickly Zeke rose in the ranking? Head of the Interior MP’s? Who was in charge his promotion, I wonder?”

“I—uh, Erwin. You’re asking some pretty dodgy questions here.” Niles glanced around the mess hall and stepped in closer. “The Interior MP’s have a different chain of command, anyway. I just follow orders from the top. And if you keep talking like that…” There was a sudden boom as the doors to the mess hall slammed opened. Niles gave a last, cautious look to Erwin, and said quietly, “if you keep talking like that, you’re likely to lose another arm.”

Three men strode into the airship mess hall. On either side were secret agents Bertholdt Hoover and Reiner Braun, both large and intimidating, though Hoover had a bandage strapped around his head. In the center, with tinted glasses and an ever-perpetual smirk—the government’s Head of Interior MP’s and minister of espionage. The only name he ever went by was Zeke, but in some circles, they had a different name for him… in the back-alleys of the Capitol, in the whispered places where men of violence met on holiday… there they called him the ‘Beast.’

“Commander Niles Dok!” Zeke said. “And Air Brigade Chief Officer, Erwin Smith. I’m glad your military zeppelin was in the area… we would have been in real trouble if you hadn’t been there to lend a hand.” He smiled at them, and Erwin felt a tingle in the stump of his right arm.

“Yeah, well,” Niles said. “You’ve really screwed up this time, Zeke. The crown’s not going to be happy, when they learn you’ve lost the crystal. Without that, we have no way of finding Laputa. Not to mention, the pirates escaped without a single casualty. Operation Coordinate is a failure.”

Zeke raised a hand. “Not yet, Commander. I believe we may still be able to recover the crystal.” His voice was cheery.

“How’s that?” Niles asked.

“The crystal has…” Zeke paused. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully “…certain powers. It’ll have protected the girl when she fell from the airship. My agents are already searching the countryside. We’ll have the crystal, and the girl, back in our custody soon.”

Niles squinted. “Why bother with the girl? Isn’t she just some—”

“Zeke, if I may ask a question.” Erwin said. “Where did you learn about the crystal’s power?”

Zeke turned from Niles and studied Erwin. The light glinted off his glasses as he glanced up and down. “Brigade Officer Erwin Smith,” he said. “You’re looking well.”

“Ah, yes.” Erwin raised his right arm, what was left of it, and chuckled. “As well as can be expected.”

Zeke nodded his head. “You’ve sacrificed much for the cause. No one could doubt your loyalty. Still…” he paused. “The Ackerman gang that attacked us was led by a man named Levi. A man who used to be part of our own military. In fact, he was your subordinate, wasn’t he?”

“Yes,” Erwin said. “I suppose you could say he served under me.”

Zeke coughed. “How odd. I wonder why he chose to leave you and pursue a life of crime?”

There was a long, drawn-out silence in the mess hall of the airship. Niles scratched his beard, and even Bertholdt started to sweat a little. Erwin forced a tight smile. “Creative differences,” he said at last.

Zeke nodded. “Naturally. Well, I’m sure that your… close relationship with him… will help us outmaneuver these pirates. Assuming, of course, that you actually want to bring him to justice. Well, anything else, gentlemen? I have a crystal to find.” He turned to go, not waiting for a response.

“Zeke!” Niles barked. “Don’t forget that, as commander of the military, I am in charge of Operation Coordinate. Make sure you report everything to me!”

Zeke called out behind him as he left the room, his two cronies in tow. His sing-song voice floated through the mess hall. “Don’t forget, commander… as the government’s secret agent, I am in charge of _you_.” The doors slammed shut.

A moment of heady silence. The wind whistled through the punctures of the airship.

“Blast.” Niles said. “I really hate that man.”


	3. The Girl She Became

_Listen to me._

_Listen to me, Historia._

_If they find out who you are, they’ll kill you, or worse._

_You must become someone different._

_You’re… just a girl who found a crystal._

_A good girl, a shy girl, a sweet girl._

_A girl nobody would ever notice or think much of._

_Your name is… Crystal… no… Krista._

_Krista Lenz._

_Listen to me, Krista._

_Maybe, if you become this person._

_Maybe then, they’ll let us be free._

 

* * *

 

She woke up in a bed with silk white sheets, and a blanket pulled tight, and the sun coming through the window, warm and gentle. She closed her eyes again and breathed. Outside, birds chirped in melody, and the wind rustled through the bushes. She wanted to stay in this bed forever, wrapped in these sheets forever, she wanted to remain on the blissful border between sleep and consciousness, forever. But.

A memory of cold rain and hard pigskin and thunder. Her arms slipping from the bar. Down, down, down. And then nothing.

Krista felt her heartbeat speed up as she remembered the events on the airship the night before—she opened her eyes.

A ceiling. Light wooden walls, a texture like oak or pine. She was lying on her back in a thin little bunk, a window to her right, where the sun trickled in. After a moment, she pushed the blankets back, and slid softly to her feet.

The room was cozy. The small bed in the corner, a bright window, a bookcase. She stopped to look at the titles, standing on her tiptoes so she could see. _Mechanical Design Patterns: 101 Solved Aeroengineering Problems._ Her breath caught as she looked at the next one. _The Mythic City: Laputa._

She snatched for the amulet around her neck, then gave a sigh of relief as she felt the cool, smooth stone of the crystal.

There was a knock at the door.

She turned as it opened, heart hammering in her chest. Instinctively, she took a step back, knocking against the side of the bookcase, one hand closed around her crystal necklace, squeezing it, pressing it into her collarbone as if that way she could protect it.

“Hey, I thought I heard you moving around. I made breakfast.” She heard his voice first, and then a boy emerged through the doorway, balancing a thin tray of food. He had dark, brown hair, like damp dirt after rain, and when he looked at her she saw his eyes were green. Like the needles of pine trees, or the moss that grew in the north in the forest dark.

“…you alright?” he asked. He glanced at the tray. “I made eggs, and there’s some fruit, and half a sausage. But there’s more if you get hungry…” his voice trailed off. He stared at her. “You do eat food, right?”

He asked it without a trace of sarcasm and she was surprised enough that she answered automatically. “Yes.”

The boy flushed and said, “I… I mean, of course. It’s just that, the way you fell from the sky, I thought you might be an angel or something.”

“I was travelling on an airship,” she said. “There was a storm, and I fell. But I don’t remember anything after that. And then I woke up here.” Relaxing, she let the hand that clutched the crystal fall back to her side. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Eren,” he said. “You?”

“Krista Lenz.”

“So, Krista, you don’t remember how you got here?”

She shook her head.

“Well, when I saw you… you were floating through the air, like a feather. And that crystal around your neck was glowing all crazy-like. And then… well…” Eren looked kind of embarrassed. “Well, there was a problem at the mine, and my boss Hannes almost screwed things up, but it all turned out okay. So then I came back and got you, and you were still sleeping, so I just carried you back here.”

She looked down. “Oh,” she said. “I’m still in my clothes. I must have gotten your sheets dirty.”

Eren flushed again. “It’s fine, really!” he said. “I didn’t want to… I mean… um, anyway. And you were really light so it was no problem carrying you, and here’ some breakfast, and if you need to wash up there’s a bathroom down the – ”

“Eren,” she said. “Did you… tell anyone that I was here?”

He paused. “No… no, I guess not. I was going to tell Mr. Hannes, but with all the confusion, the lift brakes failing and all, I forgot to mention it, and then by the time I remembered everyone had left.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

He scratched his head. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” She leaned forward and took the tray of food from his hands. “Thank you so much for this, Eren. I owe you a debt.”

He raised his hands in defense. “Really, it’s nothing. If you need a change of clothes, I left one of my shirts and a pair of trousers in the bathroom.”

“Thank you, Eren,” she said again, as he backed from the room. It was so kind of him to do all this. But where were his parents? Did he live alone here? Was he an orphan, like her?

Could she, maybe, trust him?

_Historia._

_You must run. Run and never come back._

_Take the crystal and go._

_If they find you, they’ll kill you._

_Historia._

_Remember._

_Trust no one._

But she was tired of running. And so, so tired of lying to everyone she met. And as she palmed the crystal she wore around her neck, and remembered her sister’s words, she knew it was only a matter of time before she broke.

* * *

 

She changed into the clothes Eren had left—the shirt was too baggy, the pants too long, but she didn’t mind. Her old dress she folded neatly and left on the bed. True to his word, Eren was in the study. It was the biggest room in his little cabin, large enough to accommodate a few workbenches, and the wooden skeleton of an aeroplane.

She closed the door quietly behind her and stepped around the wooden shell. Eren was crouched over at a workbench, holding a screwdriver. “Hey!” he said, twisting around in his chair. “Feeling better?”

“Yes, very much. What’s this?” She pointed to a picture on the wall. It had no color, only shades of black, white, and grey. A city, floating in the sky, partially obscured by a cloud.

“It’s a photograph,” Eren said. “My father took it, on his last expedition. It’s the flying city of Laputa.”

 _Laputa._ “I’ve heard that name before,” she said.

Eren studied the photograph. “It appears in our oldest legends. They say the Laputian empire ruled over the entire world. Supposedly they had great knowledge, most of which has now been lost. For whatever reason, seven hundred years ago, the Laputians abandoned the city and came down to Earth.” Eren paused. “Most people just think it’s a story, made for children. But my father believed in it, and I do too. He searched for it his entire life. On one expedition, he said he saw a giant cloud, a storm. He was caught in it, and in the center… the clouds parted for just an instant, and he snapped this picture.”

Historia looked at the black-and-white city, the castle in the sky. It was beautiful, and so finely detailed that she could tell it was real.

Eren continued, in a slow, cautious tone of voice. “When he came back from that last expedition, everyone called him a liar. It was being called a liar that killed him.”

“I’m sorry, Eren. Are you… are you alone here?”

Eren blinked. “Yeah.”

She looked at him. “Me too. I’m the same. I have… no family left, in this world.”

He coughed and turned away. “Well, I’m going to prove to everyone that my father was no liar. I’m building my own aeroplane, and when I finish, I’m going to find Laputa myself.”

“I hope you do, Eren,” she said. They both fell silent.

In that momentary silence, they could hear a soft rumble from outside, the sound of something getting closer. Eren frowned and walked to the window of the study. “Hey,” he said. “A real-life automobile, you don’t see many of those around here.”

Krista followed his gaze to the winding road that led up to Eren’s cabin. Approaching was a steely, rickety automobile, billowing smoke. And inside the machine: the passengers. She gasped.

“Hm?” Eren turned to her. “Is something wrong?”

Krista stared in horror at the automobile driving up to the house. She recognized one of its occupants. A tall, thin man with a hat and a wicked grin. The pirates. They’d found her already.

“Eren, there’s something I haven’t told you.”

He hesitated. “Krista, are those men chasing you?” Somehow, he already knew.

She could only nod.

“Hey,” he said. She looked into his eyes. His lips were set; his gaze was cast-iron and steel. “It’s okay,” he said. “Relax. I won’t let them take you.”

The cold fury in his voice was comforting. She didn’t know exactly why, but for some reason, she felt she could trust him.

“We orphans need to stick together,” he said. “And whoever those men are. I can see that they’ve hurt you. I noticed it this morning, in the way you spoke to me. I knew something was off. Don’t worry, Krista.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Come with me.” His dark green eyes seemed thoughtful. “I have an idea.”


	4. Different Approaches

Mikasa Ackerman wouldn’t hurt you if you didn’t get in her way.  She wasn’t a sadist or a murderer. She didn’t kill for sport.

In fact, of the three Ackerman siblings, she considered herself the least evil. She wasn’t like Kenny, who inflicted pain for its own sake. Nor Levi, who’d never once expressed care for any human being, as long as she’d known him.

Mikasa was just very goal-oriented.

Sometimes, in order to reach her goals, she had to lacerate flesh or shoot people in the face. But, hey—was she really going to feel guilty about that? It was the universe that was cruel—not her. In each realm of nature, the strong preyed on the weak. Who was she to argue? No. She was just playing by the rules.

And so, when Ymir started asking questions, Mikasa answered appropriately.

“I heard the target’s a little girl,” Ymir said. The newest addition to the pirate gang, Ymir, was an excellent navigator, which was a plus. She was also incredibly crass, which was another plus. But underlying her tough exterior was a kind and empathetic woman… and that, well. That was a major drawback.

“If she doesn’t put up a fight, she won’t get hurt, probably.” Mikasa said.

The two of them were sitting in the back of an open-roof automobile, as it chugged up the gravel-dirt road to the little cabin on the hill. Some of the Shiganshina townsfolk had mentioned that they’d seen a light falling from the sky, around this area. In the front seat, Kenny’s large black hat fluttered in the wind. Petra drove.

“I heard the girl’s cute.” Ymir just wouldn’t shut up.

“Cute girls die the same as regular girls.”

“Yeah, but it’d be such a waste. We should kidnap her instead. How come we never kidnap people anymore? When I signed up, I thought it was gonna be a simple kidnapping-and-ransom gig. You know, pirate stuff. Instead, it’s just been Crystal this and Crystal that. Laaame.”

Petra, from the front seat, said: “Well, Ymir, once we get Laputa’s treasure, we won’t need to be pirates anymore. We’ll be able to do whatever we want.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ymir said. She folded her arms across her chest. “I prefer a life of crime.”

Kenny chimed in. “I gotta second Ymir on that one.”

“See?” Ymir poked Mikasa. “How bout it, Miks? We put her in a sack and take her up to our place. She can stay with me. I got space in my room. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her. You wouldn’t even notice.”

“No.” They’d arrived at the cabin. As the automobile pulled to a stop, Mikasa pushed its door open. She stepped carefully down onto the rocks. “If she’s here, we take the crystal. If she puts up a fight, she dies.”

“Damn, Mikasa. Poor little thing probably doesn’t have a choice. Have a little compassion, would you?”

Mikasa could feel the weight of the switchblade in her belt, pressing against her hip, aching to be held. She glanced at Ymir. “There’s only so many people in this world I actually care about,” she said. “I don’t have time to spare, or the room in my heart.”

 

* * *

 

“Ooh, Mikasa thinks she’s _so_ cool,” Ymir muttered to herself as she stomped around the side of the little cabin to check for a back door. “ _I don’t have time to spare or the room in my heart. Oooooh._ So edgy.”

Little pebbles and pieces of gravel crunched beneath her boots. As she turned the corner, she collided with two young boys coming the opposite way. She let out an _“oof”_ in surprise.

One of the boys had brown hair, and when he looked up at her she saw he had green eyes. _Just like the emeralds we’re gonna find in Laputa_ , she thought. The other kid was wearing a hood and had his eyes downcast and away.

“Hey, buddo, you seen a little girl around here?” she asked. “Like, around your height but with blonde hair?”

“Sure, there’s lots of girls like that in our village,” the brown-haired kid said. “You mean Suzy, or Alexandra, or Barbara, or Yelena, or —”

“Uh, hold on, not someone from your village. Maybe someone new?”

“Someone new?” The boy looked up at her with a clueless smile.

“Whatever. Never mind.” Ymir shook her head and muttered to herself. “Thanks for nothing, kid.”

“No problem!” he chirped back, and a second later he and his friend were dashing off down the hillside in the direction of the village. Ymir waited for them to get some distance, and then cautiously entered the cabin through the back door.

There were lots of lame pictures on the walls, and in the main room, a large wooden skeleton of an aeroplane. Whoever lived here must have fancied themselves an engineer. Ymir scanned the room idly. Books, pictures, and blueprints. Yawn.

Wait a second.

She approached one of the pictures—something about it had caught her eye. But it wasn’t a picture at all—it was a photograph. “Hey, guys,” she aired, to no one in particular. “This Laputa place we’re looking for. It’s a floating island in the sky, right?”

A grainy black-and-white photograph of a floating island, half-covered in cloud, hung in its frame in front of her. What were the odds?

“Ymir!” Petra said, emerging from one of the side rooms. Clenched in her hands, a light blue silk dress. “We need to tell Mikasa. She’s in disguise!”

Ymir looked at the dress, looked at the photograph, looked back at the dress, and then remembered the two kids she’d just run into outside.

_Oops._

“Quick, tell Mikasa!” she parroted back. “The girl’s in disguise!”


	5. Black Brick Green Light

**The city of Trost, one month prior:**

In the boxing ring, Mike Zacharias danced on the balls of his feet, arms raised but relaxed, his nose itching ever so slightly. Rico, a few meters opposite him, was doing the same—shaggy blonde hair swaying from side to side. Without her glasses, she was actually quite striking.

He could see what some would call a hint of a smile playing about her lips, but it was only a gimmick, an expression carefully worn, cultivated, to give a certain illusion to her movements… and her mindset. They all had masks they wore. Inside her head, he guessed she felt the same as him, an intense concentration, a determination to win the fight. This was important, after all. There was pride on the line.

Leaning on the ropes of the boxing ring was a jostling, jeering crowd of men in suits—a shifting patchwork of striped plaid, tweed and herringbone. These were not ordinary pub-goers, they were people of business, in their brown-lace up oxfords and leather moccasins. But their hats were off and the hair of their scalps was slicked back with sweat. The thin veneer of professionalism wiped away by the thrill of a fight.

Rico laughed easily, then split-step and swung. Mike moved without thinking. A thrill in his veins and the taste of adrenaline his throat, an acid taste, like a penny corroding under the tongue. Rico’s fist slammed into his left hand and pushed it into his cheek, and Mike let it bounce against his jaw, then turned with his feet and his hips and his shoulders, crossing with a motion that lifted him up off into the air, his punch reaching, straining, to collide with the edge of her skull.

But she ducked it, and now he’d overreached.

She moved under his arm, and then before he could react she had both arms hooked around his shoulder. “Take him down!” he heard someone in the crowd shout vaguely, and then the world was spinning, he saw the ropes and then the wall, then the ceiling, and then black-and-white as his head collided with the floor.

When he came to Rico was sitting on his chest, an old familiar grin on her face, and people in the crowd were exchanging money. “Every damn time,” someone was complaining.

“You’re so dumb,” Rico said. “You’ve fallen for my fake jab twice now. I can see you trying to wind up that haymaker, you know.”

“Shut up, you grey-haired coot.” Mike rubbed his aching head. “Did you… was that… did you throw me? Where’d you learn that?”

“Been practicing.” Rico got up off his chest and lent him a hand. He rose from the floor cautiously, the lights of the chandeliers still spinning in slow, concentric circles.

“Think you mighta given me a concussion,” he muttered.

“Aww, did pretty boy get his head bonked?” Rico made an exaggerated frown. “Good thing he never has to use his brain anyway.”

“Shut up. Hag.”

“Idiot.”

“Witch.”

“Moron.”

“Ogre.”

“Muppet.”

Mike squinted in confusion. “What?” he asked. “Did you just call me a –”

They were interrupted by Dimo Reeves, who’d pushed through the bustling crowd and clambered up into the ring. He walked over to them, two slips of paper in his hand. “Well done, very well done!” he chortled. “The Garrison beats the Air Brigade in the first, inaugural, Military Day boxing match! Now, as for your payment…” he handed one slip to Rico, then the other to Mike. “I’ve decided to double your reward!” he said. “Consider it a token of gratitude! For the good turnout, of course.”

“What the hell is this?” Rico asked, looking at the paper.

“Your payment, naturally!” The squat, chubby man looked up at them in a picture of innocence.

“I assumed we’d be getting paid in, you know. Money.”

“This is money!” Reeves said. “Dimo Bucks, exchangeable at any Reeves and Co. owned business or organization. These things are worth their weight in gold!”

“…they’re weightless,” Rico said, but Reeves had already clambered back out of the ring and was retreating into the crowd. “I’ll see you at the rematch!” he shouted. “And better luck next time, Mike.”

Mike looked down at the piece of paper. _200 Dimo Bucks_ was scrawled in thin, handwritten charcoal. Between the _200_ and the _Dimo_ was a little moustached smiley face that somewhat resembled Dimo Reeves.

“Whatever,” Rico said. She glanced at Mike. “Let’s get out of here and head to my place,” she said. “You look like you need an icepack. And I need a drink.”

 

* * *

 

“It’s actually quite clever, now that I think about it.” Rico said, pouring herself a glass of white wine. “Sure, someone like myself wouldn’t be very interested in tobacco, beer, or salted meat, so the 200 Dimo Bucks aren’t worth all that much to me. But I could still exchange it to some guy, or maybe multiple guys, for say 150 real dollars, so it’s all good. I’m still happy.”

She took a sip, eyes staring out the window at a darkened city and its gaslight lamps, black-brick streets cast in a faint green light. She’d put her glasses back on, now that they were back in her apartment.

“At the same time,” Rico continued, “Reeves has to spend a little more than he would normally, since he’s giving away 200 dollars’ worth of stuff for free, rather than 100 dollars upfront. But,” she raised a finger, “I suspect he’s willing to do it, because that 200 dollars’ worth of stuff is 200 dollars that’s _not_ being spent on his competitor’s stuff.”

Mike watched as she poured another glass. The way her mind worked, her obsessions and fears, were still a mystery to him. But he was learning, little by little.

“Really, we can view it as an investment,” Rico said. “Reeves certainly makes more than 200 dollars per fight, and, while he can’t avoid giving away money as a prize, he can make sure that the new disposable income he gives his winners is never funneled into boosting his rivals. Which means that it’ll also scale, because if the fight becomes bigger and bigger, and the reward gets bigger and bigger, eventually it’ll become so big that it helps drive his competition bankrupt.” She swirled the wine in her glass and looked at Mike. “The man’s a genius,” she concluded. “I mean, the fight’ll never get that big. Probably. But if it does...”

“Rico,” Mike said. “I need to ask you something.”

She didn’t look at him, just took another sip and then set the wine glass down. “Yes?” she asked.

“How much do you know about Zeke Yeager?”

A long silence stretched out in the cold air of Rico’s apartment. Outside, the night-cast city of Trost twinkled with occasional spots of gaslight green. They were on the highest floor, the third, and the sounds of the street were muffled up here. The screech of piston and clank of steel, quiet. Mike stopped himself from shifting uncomfortably.

“He’s not someone we talk about very much in the Garrison,” Rico said, finally. “I probably don’t know much more than you. Just rumors.”

“But you’re smart,” Mike said. “You must have figured things out, from what you’ve heard. If there’s anything important… I’m going after him, Rico.” He paused, knowing it would be pointless to lie. “The Scouts. We’re investigating him.”

“I figured,” she said. She stared at the counter and then turned to him. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Her eyes studied him. “You challenged me on purpose,” she said. “You knew you would lose… or, well, you didn’t care. You just wanted an excuse for me to fix you up.” She turned away, a note of bitterness in her voice. “You could’ve just asked.”

“That’s not true, Rico,” Mike said quietly. “You know this was a better way to approach things. And I fought to win.”

She didn’t answer for a second, then said. “Well. If you’re dead-set on investigating him—”

“—I am.”

“—then there are some things you should know. And the word dead-set wasn’t arbitrary, by the way.” She walked to the counter and reached over. “Let me replace your icepack, it must be getting warm. I’d never heard the name Zeke Yeager before a couple years ago. But there were always whispers about a particular man, a…” she paused, “…a _secret agent_ , if you would. Called—”

“—the Beast.” Mike finished.

“Exactly. Mike, they say this guy went undercover, for, like _years_ , in a Laputian restorationist cult. Made friends, a network… Mike, they say he had a wife _._ Then, once he works his way up, figures out where all the cells are, who all the leaders are… turns them in. The entire resistance wiped out in a day.”

She stopped talking for a second as she retrieved another pack from her icebox. Mike reached forward over the counter to take it from her, but she said, “No, let me,” and pressed it gently to the back of his head. “You’re gonna have a bruise there,” she muttered. “Sorry about that.”

“S’fine. So, this Zeke guy. Was deep undercover, and now he’s back. Probably got promoted, or something? Now he’s giving the orders.”

“Yeah,” Rico said. “And whenever he or one of his… _henchmen_ , shows up, they just demand something, and if someone says no, or questions it, it always comes back eventually with a writ from the crown. No explanation.”

“Mm, he’s got the king in his pocket.” Mike frowned, his mind deep at thought. “It must be this whole Laputa thing. The king’s obsessed now. Zeke might have learned something while he was with the restorationists, some tidbit of information that makes him valuable.” He drummed his fingers on the countertop.

“Mike, there’s something else.” Rico said, and she looked up at him. Mike was surprised to see something in her expression he couldn’t describe, couldn’t quite put a finger on. “Yeah?” he asked.

“Anyone who’s gone investigating him, anyone’s who asked too many questions,” she said. “Well, I don’t need to spell it out, do I?”

“Ah.” He sniffed. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“I do worry,” she said. “And maybe I shouldn’t, because I’m just a tool to you, just a place to go to get information and leads, and maybe I shouldn’t even be telling any of this to you, because I’m putting myself in danger, too. But I do care. I care about your safety, more than… more than I’d like.”

“You’re not a tool to me,” Mike said. She was still holding the icepack to his head, and he reached his hand up slowly to take it from her. Their fingers brushed as she let go. “But there’s something suspicious about Zeke. Erwin thinks he might be angling to take the treasure of Laputa for himself. And who knows what a man like that could do with resources like those?”

“Erwin.” Rico said. She sighed. “You’re a loyal man, Mike. Truly loyal. That’s what always impressed me about you.” She seemed like she wanted to say something, but instead just swallowed. “I just hope… that… I hope that man Erwin Smith, is worth the devotion you show him. Be careful, Mike.”

Her eyes, behind glasses, seemed to be glistening, but maybe it was just a trick, a reflection of the green-gas light.


	6. Surprises, Pt. 1

Eren and Historia almost made it to the village before the automobile caught them.

Their shoes beat against the gravel of the narrow path as they ran, panting. Eren led the way. “We’re almost there,” he said. Historia was taking deep, trembling breaths. “Just a little farther,” he promised. And she could see the orange-brick townhouses of Shiganshina growing larger. Surely they were close, surely they were only minutes from safety.

But she spared a glance backwards and saw the black exhaust, and they both heard the _chugga-chugga-chugga_ as it rounded the hill beside them. “Eren!” Historia cried. The automobile zoomed down the path, letting fly loose-dirt with its wheels.

“Get behind me.” Eren growled.

It spun as its brakes engaged. Mechanical pistons clamping down, then a terrible shriek as the machine reeled left, then right, then left again. It came to a shuddering stop in front of them, billowing up massive clouds of dust. Historia looked away, eyes stinging.

Eren coughed heavily as the dust settled, but still moved in front of her, one arm out protectively. Then, Historia heard a woman’s voice.

“Eren!”

He stared in confusion, and Historia managed to take a good look at the automobile. She realized it was a different machine from the one she’d seen earlier. Inside, a young man and woman, grinning.

Eren blinked. “Sasha?” he asked.

“Ya like my new ride?” The woman slapped the side of her automobile. “Worked on it myself.”

“Are you—aren’t you at the Academy? In Mitras?” Eren asked. “What’re you doing here?”

“Well, we’re on break right now, and my friend Connie here wanted to see the ol’ village. Thought I’d show him around. Take him to some of the local eats. You wanna hop in? Hey, who’s your friend there?”

Eren glanced at Historia. “She’s just visiting. She’s, uh… she’s from out of town.”

“Oh.” Sasha leaned forward. “Hey, I didn’t even notice you were a girl! With those pants and shirt and cap you look like a guy. Well, anyway, y’all want to hop in the back? I’ll give you a ride.”

Eren looked up the road, then at Historia. She nodded. “Okay,” he said.

“Well, get on in.”

 

* * *

 

“So, we started with shrimp as an appetizer, then had the baked potato melt as a kind of second appetizer. They also had chips there with fondue thing, and rolls with butter, so we had some of that too, kind of intermittently throughout the course of the meal. Then, the main dish was a roasted boar with stuffing, and we also had this really good angel-hair pasta…” Sasha stopped to take a deep breath. “…we topped it all off with some truffles and a double-decker chocolate fudge cake with sprinkles and cherries.”

“Wow.” Eren said. “Sounds like quite a meal.”

“It was! And that was just the first day. The second day, we started with—”

“Please, Sasha.” Connie lay a hand on her arm, then twisted around in the front seat to speak to Eren and Historia. “You can’t let her get sucked into the food topic. I’ve lost hours of my life listening to stuff like this.”

“What?” Sasha glanced from the road for a second to give Connie a wounded look. “I thought ya liked hearing me talk about my meals.”

“I do! I do. I just don’t know if our friends here want to listen.”

“Ahhh. I gotchya.” Sasha said. “It’s like our special thing.”

“Exactly!” Connie said. “We can talk about food when other people aren’t around.”

“So, like,” Sasha gave Eren and Historia the side-eye then whispered to Connie, “like when we’re in the special room.”

Historia shot Eren a horrified glance, while Connie frowned and said, “The special room?”

“You know.” Sasha waggled her eyebrows at him. “The special room. The one we go where we’re making L-O-“

“Sasha!”

“L-O-A-V-E-S. The kitchen! The room we go when we’re making loaves of bread. What did you think I was talking about?”

Connie leaned back into his seat and covered his face in his hands. “Oh my god,” he said. “You’re the actual worst sometimes.”

Sasha stuck her tongue out at him, then turned her attentions to Eren and Historia. “So, my darling little Eren got himself a lady friend?”

“She’s not my lady friend!” Eren said. “Well, she is. But not like you’re implying. And don’t call me little, you’re only three years older than me, anyway.”

“He’s so cute when he gets angry,” Sasha said. “Like an adorable little iddy widdy bunny rabbit. I just wanna spit-roast him and serve him up for dinner.”

“That’s weird, Sash.”

By then, they’d come to the front gates of Shiganshina, and Sasha slowed the automobile as they rolled from the dirt path onto the cobblestone streets. “Looks like we’re here,” Sasha said. Townsfolk waved at them from the townhouses and the sides of the road, attracted by the shiny new machine. “You got a place you want me to drop you off?”

“If you could just take us to the city square,” Eren said. He leaned over to Historia, and said quietly, “I know a couple of miners who are good at hiding things. We can find someplace for you to lie low, until those men stop looking around here.”

But, before he could say anything else…

The hum of a wire extending through the air. The sound of breaking glass. And a flash of movement in the corner of his eye.


	7. Surprises, Pt. 2

A grey wire shot past Historia’s face, vibrating with a _thrummm_ , and then she heard the _fssss_ of a gas canister. Some part of her connected the sounds to a concept in her memory. _3DMG._ A shape swooped from the townhouses, and then large, bony arms circled her and lifted her up into the air. “Krista!” Eren yelled. She was too shocked to do anything as she felt herself carried away.

“Gotchya, you little twerp.” The man carrying her was grey-haired and wrinkly, though otherwise his features looked young. The device on his back spat another wire, chipping into a nearby house, and they were yanked mid-air in another direction.

“Let go of me!” Historia screamed.

“Not until you gimme that crystal,” the man said.

“Why won’t you just LEAVE ME ALONE!” One of her arms was caught in his grip, but the other hand was free. She reached up and clawed fingernails against his face. The man grimaced in pain… and dropped her.

There was a moment of sheer instinctual panic, as she fell headfirst toward the cobblestone street. _I’m going to die_ , she thought. But once again, the crystal grew warm against her skin. A flash of blue light, and it came humming out, straining softly against the necklace. It slowed her descent, not completely, but enough so that she could catch herself and roll onto the ground—with nothing more than bruised elbows.

The grey-haired man came skidding to a stop a few metres away, almost careening over a fruit stand. Onlookers screamed and then scattered as he drew a long blade and turned. “You little piece of crap!” he shouted at Historia. “You made me bite my tongue!” He charged, and she ran.

She dashed down the street as quickly as she could, but she was already tired, and she could sense the man gaining on her. Then, at the other end of the street, another pair of men emerged with 3DMG and blades. “That’s her!” she heard her pursuer yell. “Get her Moblit! That’s the one we want!” She was trapped.

“Krista!” The door to a townhouse next to her creaked open. Eren peeked his head out. “In here!” She edged sideways into the townhouse apartment. A woman slammed the door behind them, turned two locks and slid a deadbolt. “Come on!” Eren tugged on Historia’s arm. “Follow me!” They ran through the apartment. There was the sound of a window smashing behind them. “This way!” Eren said. Through the back door, out into an alley.

They sprinted through the alley, a small sliver of light showing the main street at the end. An automobile was parked at the alley exit. _Honk honk._ “Come on!” shouted Sasha.

But before they could make it to the end of the alley…

 _Whoosh_. Wires buried themselves in the walls and a dark shape descended from the rooftops. Eren and Historia came to an abrupt stop as a man landed in front of them—this one, Historia recognized. How could she not? His face was plastered across the country, on poster boards and flyers, on street signs and newspapers. The nation’s most wanted criminal, leader of the deadliest pirate gang in history.

“Enough games.” said Levi Ackerman.

Behind them, pirates were spilling out into the alleyway. There was nowhere to run. Eren looked from side to side, his face turning red. “Get away!” he shouted at Levi. “If you come any closer I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you all, you animals!”

“You know,” Levi said, “we don’t actually want the girl. Just the crystal.”

Historia shook her head and whispered to Eren. “No, we can’t let them. I don’t have time to explain, Eren, but it’s not safe for them to have it… it’s too powerful.”

Eren gestured at the pirates on both sides. He had a rock clenched in his fist. “Don’t even think about it!” he shouted. “I can take you all!”

Levi sighed and walked forward, sliding a blade out from his sheath. “You’re just a little brat, aren’t you?” he said. “What you need is a little discipline. And in my experience, the best form of discipline is pain.”

He swung his blade. Historia screamed and buried her face into Eren’s shoulder.

_Clang._

 

* * *

 

The stroke had been blocked by another figure. A man who’d come flying through the alley, landing at their feet just in time.

“MR. HANNES??!”

“I never told ya, Eren,” said the moustached minecart operator, as he pushed his own blade back against Levi’s. “But I used to be part of the Garrison, back in the day. Still had the old 3DMG gear lyin’ around.”

Levi took a few steps back, dancing away the point of his blade. He made a small sound of irritation in the back of his throat. “Tch.”

“Mr. Hannes, there’s too many of them!” Eren said.

Hannes winked. “That’s why I called in the crew.”

From the back of the alley came a tremendous roar, as men in lederhosen and padded hats charged in from the street. Some of them held knives and clubs, others had drills, some had pickaxes. Within seconds, the narrow alleyway had dissolved into an all-out brawl between pirates and miners. “Now, get your friend and get outta here!” Hannes shouted.

Eren grabbed Historia’s hand. “Now’s our chance!” he said. In the confusion of the melee, they made a dash for the exit of the alley, where Sasha and Connie desperately waved at them.

But, as they passed Levi, he reacted with almost superhuman agility—snatching at the crystal around Historia’s neck. He got one hand around the necklace—and then there was a bright blue flash. Levi grunted and recoiled. Small wisps of steam rose up from his hand, where’d he brushed the magic stone.

“Come on,” Eren said, tugging Historia away. And then they were through the crowd, and Connie pushed the door of the automobile open as they sprinted towards it. They dived into the back seat and hear the roar of the engine. “Let’s go!” Sasha said, and they tore off down the street.

Historia was swallowing a lump in her throat as she lay with her face pressed into the cushion of the seat. _All those people… they barely even know me, but they’re still fighting to save me_. “It’s okay, Krista,” Eren said. “You’re safe now.”

She sat up to look at him, tears brimming in her eyes. “No, Eren,” she said. _He deserves to know the truth._ “My name isn’t Krista. My real name is—”

“We can chitchat later!” Sasha said. “We got a problem!”

Trailing them was another automobile, dark smoke billowing from its exhaust pipes. It was the same machine they’d seen chugging up the hill to Eren’s house earlier. In the front, a black-haired girl was staring them down, a knife spinning easily in one of her hands.

“That’s right, folks,” Sasha said, pressing down on the gas pedal. “We ain’t outta the woods yet!”


	8. Left Hand Free

The tires of their automobile complained bitterly, screeching as they cut a narrow corner. “We gotta get out of the village,” Sasha said, hunched over the wheel. Her hair billowed in the wind. “I saw a bunch of those flying guys everywhere. It ain’t safe here.”

“What about them?” Connie asked, pointing to the tailing car.

Sasha slapped the engine. “I’ll open ‘er up once we hit the road. I bet we can outrun them.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. We’ll leave them in the dust. Eren, you know a safe place for you and your friend to hide out?”

Eren thought for a second, the air whistling by their ears. “Krista, if we make it to the excavation where I work, we can go into the mine tunnels. I know my way around. We’ll be safe there.”

“Okay, Eren. I trust you.”

“Alrighty,” Sasha said. “That’s out east, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” said Eren. “Just past the big cavern bridge.”

“Okay.” Sasha pressed her foot down harder on the pedal. “Let’s go for it.”

 

* * *

 

They tore through the village gates, travelling eastward.

But.

In the streets of Shiganshina, the pirates’ automobile had lagged back, staying a comfortable distance away, though never going out of sight. As soon as they left the mining town, however, the other vehicle started to gain speed. Soon, it became clear that the pirates were gaining on them.

“They’re gonna catch us!” Connie said.

Sasha spared a backwards glance, then cursed. “They were baitin’ us,” she said. “Acting like they couldn’t go that fast, then pouring on the juice once we got out into the open. Eren, Connie, how long do you think we got before they catch us?”

Connie frowned, while Eren squinted. “Maybe five minutes?” Eren offered. The pirates were still a ways back; maybe a fourth of a mile separated the two vehicles.

“Less than that,” Krista said quietly. “More like three minutes until they catch us.”

“Eren, how far’s this bridge?”

“I dunno, I never travelled there in an automobile before. Thirty minutes by horse?”

Sasha cursed again. “We ain’t gonna make it in time.” Then, to make matters worse… the sound of gunfire behind them. One of the pirates, a tall man in a black hat, was standing up and levelling a pistol.

“They’re _shooting_ at us,” Sasha said, in disbelief. A bullet whizzed by them. When Sasha spoke again, her voice was deeper, angrier. “They’re goddamn shooting at my car.”

“Sasha, what should we do?” Connie asked.

There was steel in Sasha’s voice. “First off, Eren, Krista, I’m gonna need you guys to lie down in the back seat, okay? I don’t want you gettin’ hit accidentally. Now, Connie, can you go ahead and clamber back there, and open up the boot—”

“You want me to climb to the back of the car? But they’re shooting there!”

“They’re shooting with pistols, honey, they ain’t gonna hit you from this range.”

“You just told Eren and Krista to lie down!”

Sasha shook her head, while her hands delicately manipulated the steering wheel. “Not to stop ‘em getting hit by pirates,” she said. “I wanted to make sure they didn’t accidentally get hit by _me._ Now, in the boot, I got my bolt action hunting rifle, and four cartridges. I want you to go ahead and get those out, if ya could.”

“You own a gun?” Connie said.

Sasha glanced at him. “It’s for huntin’.”

“You kill _animals_?”

“Usually.”

Connie stared at her.

“You got a problem, city boy?” Sasha asked him.

“Uh… no ma’am.” Connie climbed over the divider and into the back seat, moving carefully to avoid stepping on Eren or Historia. He reached over the backside of the car, muttering something incoherent. Eren and Historia heard him rustling about in the automobile’s boot, and then he was leaning back with a rifle in his hands, and four metal bullets.

“Okay,” Sasha said. “Now, can you do me a favor and load those cartridges into the magazine.”

Connie looked down at the gun in his hands. “Uhhh….”

“It’s real simple. You’re gonna go ahead and pull back the bolt, which you’re gonna find on the left side, cuz I built that hunting rifle myself, and I’m left-handed. You’re gonna lift the bolt up and pull her back, okay?” Sasha spared another quick glance. “That’s perfect, babe, you’re doing great. Now, when you put the cartridges in, you’re gonna _stagger_ them, okay? So push ‘em down left, right, left, right. Perfect. Now, I’m gonna need you to hand that to Eren, and then come ‘ere and take the wheel.”

Connie pushed the gun nervously into Eren’s hands. “You want me to drive?” he asked, climbing back over to the front of the car. “I don’t really know how to operate this thing.”

“Don’t be silly, I gave ya lessons just yesterday.” Sasha hopped up as he slid into the driver’s seat, taking the wheel from her hands. They veered suddenly right—overcorrected left—and almost lost control, but Connie managed to recover and directed them straight again. “See!” Sasha said, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. “You got it down.”

“This. Is. Terrifying.” Connie said through gritted teeth.

Sasha knelt in the passenger’s seat and gestured to Eren. “Hand me the gun, sweetie.” Taking the rifle from Eren, she leaned the end against her shoulder, and leaned forward against the divider, resting the barrel against the automobile’s back lip. “Connie, sweetheart, I know you’re trying, but can you drive in a straight line, please.”

“I’m doing my best! This road is really bumpy.” They were bouncing up and down, as they got farther away from the village and the road became less and less paved.

Sasha squinted down the sights, but then cursed as her hair blew in front of her face. “Eren, hold the gun for a sec,” she said, leaning back. With a quick motion, she tied her hair in a loose knot. “Good enough,” she muttered. “You know, this long hair is your fault, Connie.”

“How is that my fault?”

“Don’t play innocent! You said you like my hair long.”

“I didn’t think” _crash_ “we would be” _bounce_ “spending our time” _thump_ “chased by pirates.”

“Fair enough,” Sasha admitted. She leaned back, re-assuming her stance. “Ain’t never tried to hit a moving target from a moving platform before,” she said. In a sudden motion, hard and fast, she pulled the bolt up and back, then forward and down. A pause, and then she fired.

The sound of the rifle was deafening, a loud bang that neither Eren nor Historia was quite ready for. Meanwhile, the recoil knocked Sasha back from her unstable purchase, and she bounced against the front of the automobile. Connie shot her a concerned look, but she was already clambering forward to assess the shot. “Damn!” she said. “Missed them.”

Eren chanced a look over the back to see what had happened. It didn’t look like Sasha had hit anything, although the pirates were ducking down in their own vehicle now. Still, the gap was closing fast.

“What were you aiming for?” he asked Sasha.

“Their wheel,” she said. “But I’m not gonna hit nothing while we’re moving like this.” She shook her head. “Okay, Eren, do me a favor. You see that signpost coming up?” She pointed at it, as it approached on their left.

“Yep.”

“When we pass it, start countin’, and stop when the pirates pass. Alright? Here it comes. Ready… go.”

The signpost went flashing by. For a few moments, the only sound was the roaring of the wind as Eren and Sasha silently counted. When the pirates passed it, Sasha said. “Alright, I got twelve, what’d you get?”

“Same. Twelve.”

“Okay. So, there’s ‘bout twelve seconds between us. Now, this here vehicle tops out at around 45 miles an hour, and I’d say the rate that they’re gaining on us, I’d peg ‘em around 50 miles an hour or so. 50 miles an hour…” Sasha paused. “That’s ‘bout 25 yards a second. So, let’s say they’re roughly 300 yards behind us. That sound good?”

“Uh, sure,” said Eren.

“That’s right,” Krista said.

“Swell. Now, the effective firin’ range of this gun is 400 yards, but there’s some complications. First, we only got three bullets left, and second, I ain’t gonna be able to fire accurately from a moving vehicle. Now, I trust myself to hit a target, even if it itself is movin’, within 200 yards. And I ain’t never missed a target within 100 yards. But I’m gonna need the car to be stopped.”

Connie had a look of horror on his face. “The car to be _stopped?_ ”

“Yeah, like I said, I ain’t gonna be hitting jack shit out a movin’ vehicle. So, sweetie, when I count to three, I’m gonna need you to hit the brakes.”

“But if I hit the brakes, they’re gonna get us!” Connie wailed.

“Yea, sweetie, but not if I get ‘em first.”

“You said they’re only _twelve seconds_ behind us. Can you hit them in twelve seconds?”

“The good lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise. Y’all ready?”

“No! Wait, hold on, let’s talk about—"

“On my count! Three, two—” Lying in the backseat of the car, Eren and Historia met each other’s eyes. He squeezed her hand gently. “—one!”

Connie slammed on the brakes, an incoherent burbling coming from his mouth. Sasha jolted backwards, but she managed to stay upright with one wrist firmly gripping the divider. Her hair came tumbling loose. A few seconds later, and they’d come to a halt. Sasha leaned forward against the divider. She rested the barrel down against the back of the car. One finger crept up to the outside of the trigger guard. She stared down the sights, took a deep breath, then moved her finger into position. One more painstaking second passed, and then she fired.

All Eren and Historia could see was the gun kick back against her face and the loud _bang_ that split the air.

“Dammit,” Sasha muttered. “Missed.”

“Oh no!” said Connie. “I’m gonna start up the car!”

“Don’t you dare hit that pedal, Connie Springer.” Sasha said, as she snapped another cartridge into place with the handle. The spent one went clattering into the back seat.

Eren peeked out over the back. The pirates were drawing close enough that he could see their grins. In the front seat of the pirates’ car, the tall man fired his pistol, and a bullet pinged off the side. They were only seconds away.

“Sasha!”

She let out a breath, grew very still, and then fired again.

The reaction was immediate. One of the front wheels on the pirates’ automobile burst, collapsing in on itself. The tall man’s grin was replaced by a look of shock, and they heard an audible shriek from the black-haired girl, as the pirates went veering off the side of the road. “Gottem,” Sasha said. She slid back down into the passenger’s seat, her hands trembling.

Connie pushed on the gas pedal and the car accelerated forward. “That was close,” he said. Sasha rolled her eyes. “Relax. I still had one in the chamber.” She emptied the gun, tucking the last cartridge into a side compartment.

Back behind them, the pirates had come to a stop, some ways off the road. The figure of their automobile grew smaller in the distance.

Meanwhile, in the back seat, Historia and Eren were finally able to sit up. For a moment, they both just listened to the crunching of gravel underneath the car. Then, making eye contact, both burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Sasha asked, but soon she was giggling too.

Connie just shook his head, hands still white-knuckled on the steering wheel. “You country people are nuts.”

In front of them, the bridge to the cavern came into view. Beyond it, the excavation and the mines.


	9. Contrapasso

**Trost, one week prior:**

“This?” Mike asked, incredulous. “This is the place?”

The other agent’s ice-blue eyes stared back at him. Around them, slender snowflakes were carried by the wind. It had begun to snow in the city of Trost, an early storm that had crept up the coast. This one was small, but it was going to be a cold year. Mike could sense it.

“Yes. This is it.” said Annie Leonhardt. She was a short blonde, unassuming and deadly.

Erwin had ordered her to join the Military Police, years ago, long before the war. She was their deep cover operative, a valuable contact and source of information. She’d almost been discovered a few times, but through some combination of wits and viciousness, she’d managed to avoid blowing her cover.

Mike also suspected she’d been giving Rico martial arts lessons.

In general, being around agent Leonhardt made him very uncomfortable. Her impassionate, monotone way of speaking suggested that she didn’t really care about him at all. Mike had no doubt that Annie wouldn’t hesitate to kill him, if she were ordered to, or even if she just felt particularly in the mood.

“This is a Church of the Walls,” Mike said. “Is the guy I’m meeting some kind of zealot? I thought he was an MP.”

“Who knows what he does in his free time?” Annie said. “A friend of a friend told me he would meet you here. He’s waiting inside.” She paused. “In the confessional booth. Apparently.”

“In the confessional booth? Wow. Isn’t that a little…” Mike squirmed. “Is this necessary?”

“What, are you worried about blasphemy?” Annie asked. Her voice was as flat as ever, but there was a lightness in the way she spoke, the inkling of humor. “I didn’t realize you cared so deeply about The Walls.”

“I don’t. I’m not a cultist. I just think this might be a little offensive. Not to mention irrational. I’m sure there are better ways we could organize an extraction.”

Annie’s eyes twinkled. “I don’t come up with these things. My job is to listen as men speak, and then tell other men what was spoken. Not all of us are trying to change the world. Some of us just go with the flow.”

“Interesting words, coming from a spy. You might’ve chosen an easier profession. Yeah, I don’t think I believe you, Annie. If you didn’t want to change the world, you’d be working in a bank somewhere, or boxing, or working the night shift at a bar. You wouldn’t be here.”

She shrugged. “Think what you want.”

A sudden gust of wind sent snowflakes whispering into their hair.

“You better get going,” Annie said. “I don’t think he’s going to wait all day.”

 

* * *

 

The Wall Cultists were some freaky people. Mike had kept his interactions to a minimum with them throughout the years, but one still heard stories. It was said they believed in a sort of doomsday called The Rumbling (although what exactly the Rumbling referred to was unclear) and believed that all of humanity should build giant walls to hide behind, since that would somehow shield them when the end times came.

Like the Laputian restorationists, the Wall cultists were dangerous and manipulative. Everyone knew family members or friends who’d been sucked into the cult, who’d lost their life savings donating to one of its scams, who’d been mentally scarred by its brainwashing.

The difference was, the Laputian restorationists had kind of been right. The government now believed there _was_ a Laputa up there, somewhere in the clouds, treasure and all. And as Mike walked towards the pew and stared at the art on the church walls, he wondered if maybe what the Wallists were saying had a grain of truth, too.

The stained-glass windows on either side depicted terrifying images—giant, red figures emerging from the sea, destroying houses, _swallowing people whole_. Mike shuddered.

Laputa had been an amusing fairytale. The Rumbling was a horrifying nightmare.

He shook his head, dismissing the thoughts for another time. The confessional booth was to the side, and he walked towards it. The church was blissfully empty, but he still gave a nervous look around as he slid the door to the booth open.

He sat down, trying to shift his weight to get comfortable. The wooden step inside the confessional was rigid and small, and his legs felt squeezed as he knelt. _Whatever._ He reached out a hand and slid the door shut.

“Um. Hey.” he said, feeling kind of dumb.

“You’re supposed to say, ‘Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.’” A man’s voice replied through the latticed opening, with a trace of snark.

“I take it you’re not a real priest?” Mike asked.

“That's not important. I want to know if you can do something for me.”

“Extraction, right?” Mike looked up at the small speaking holes in the box. He couldn’t see the man speaking, but the way the confessional was designed, it was possible the other man could see him. He wasn’t sure.

“That’s right,” the man said. “I’m a member of the Military Police, as one of your contacts must have told you. What they might not have told you is that I’m also a member of the Interior MP’s, the so-called First Squad. In other words, I am a secret agent within the government, acting directly for the king.” The man paused. “For many years, this arrangement was acceptable to me. I performed my job as a keeper of the peace, and on occasion was summoned for covert operations. However, recent events have led me to consider exit opportunities.”

“Recent events?”

“Yes.” The man’s voice was hard. “This, and other information, I’m willing to trade to Erwin Smith and the rest of the Air Brigade. Specifically, I’m willing to give up everything I know regarding Zeke Yeager.”

Mike swallowed. _Finally._ “In return for what?” he asked.

“The guarantee of my safety. And a blanket pardon.”

Mike frowned up at the screen that divided them. “A pardon?” he said. “I don’t follow.”

“I am not a good man, Mike Zacharias,” the secret agent said. “I have killed, I have threatened, I have tortured. I know your Erwin Smith. I know he is a man of principles.” The man coughed. “I want assurances that I will not be judged and found wanting.”

Mike pondered that for a moment. He knew it would be best to lie, to say _Of course I can do that_ , to make promises he might not be able to keep. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he looked up and said, “It depends on the quality of information you provide, and what kind of things you’ve done. Erwin is more pragmatic than you might think. If what you can tell us saves lives, he’d be inclined to forgive you for your past.”

“Oh.” The man in the booth sounded tired. “The information I have is quite valuable. I suspect it will save a great many lives, if used properly. But nothing I can tell you will change the things I’ve done.”

The cold step of the booth was growing more uncomfortable by the minute. “And what is it you’ve done?” Mike asked. “I can’t swear anything with certainty, but maybe I can plead your case. Erwin listens to me.”

“You must understand,” the man said. “Everything I did, I did in the name of the crown, in the name of peace. I allowed myself to enjoy it, because I thought my actions were righteous and good.” The man sighed. “A teacher too smart, who asked too many questions. An old fool who made guns that threatened the king. An idiot that tried to forge fake photographs of Laputa. Even just some girl on a backwoods farm, whose only mistake was loving her sister.”

There was a long silence in the confessional, and then the man said, “I snuffed them all out.”

“Ah.” Mike said.

“Ah, indeed. Yes, Mike, I killed innocents. I killed civilians, who committed only the crime of knowledge. You know… there is a kind of situational irony in this moment. Usually, it is you, kneeling where you kneel, who confesses his sins to the priest, standing where I stand.”

“You didn’t choose this place on purpose, just for that?” Mike asked.

“If only I were so clever.” The man said. “So, what say you, Mike Zacharias of the Air Brigade? Will Erwin take the bargain I propose? Or will he order me hung for my crimes?”

“I… will need to ask him,” Mike said. “I can’t say anything for certain yet.”

“I see. That makes sense.” The man’s voice, through the latticed opening, sounded wistful. “Maybe he’ll torture me to death, just like I did to all those others. That would also be situational irony, wouldn’t it? Or would that be poetic justice? It would be fair, in a way. It’s all I ever did… with these blood-stained hands of mine.”

“I should go,” Mike said, getting to his feet. His knees ached where they’d pressed against the hard wood floor. “I’ll ask Erwin for his verdict. Meet here again, in a week?”

“Wait.” The man said. “Before you leave. A token of information, as a sign of goodwill.”

“Yes?” Mike said, his fingers hovering above the handle of the booth.

“Zeke Yeager has an incredibly dangerous servant in his employ. An assassin. The name of this man is Porco Galliard, and he is ex-Marleyan military, with a count of over one hundred kills to his name. The circles I run in are fond of monikers, and they call him the Jaw. I’m not sure why.”

“Did you say _Marleyan_?”

“Yes. He fought in the war, and after the dissolution of Marley, became a hitman. He has no love of Eldia, as you can imagine.”

“Why would a man who fought in the Marleyan military work for an Eldian secret agent?” Mike asked, his head spinning. Questions upon questions lined up in his throat, but before he could ask any, the man on the other side of the confessional said, “He works for Zeke, because Zeke is not a true agent of our country. Zeke Yeager only works for himself. And, I believe I know what Zeke has promised him.” The man hesitated, but only for a second. “I believe he has promised him the destruction of Eldia.”


	10. Rosemary and Thyme

Readers, you are no doubt eager to continue the adventure of our two heroes: Eren, and the girl who calls herself Krista Lenz. Before we can resume their story, though, there is something we must revisit first. A critical moment in time, a particular evening, that sent all these events clattering into motion.

Far, far away, miles to the east, there is a land called Gondowa. It is a place of misty hills and acred woods, pastoral, simple, idyllic. On a small farm by the ford of a river, a day’s walk from the village—it was here that Historia grew up.

But.

When the men in blue suits and steel touched down in their airship… after that, nothing was the same. For Historia, there is no returning to the past. For us, though… we, the readers… shall we roll back the clock? Shall we look back at that rose-red, sun-split evening?

Six months ago, Historia was a little girl on a farm.

 

* * *

 

**Six Months Prior**

Frieda swung the basket as she walked. She had a good haul: mushrooms, rare herbs, and the green moss that grew in the dark of the woods and cured any kind of rash. Historia trudged after her, holding a smaller basket filled to the brim with wild blackberries and flower petals. The petals couldn’t be eaten, or sold to the apothecary, but Historia liked to collect them anyway.

As the crickets chirped songs from tree to tree, Frieda stopped, a look of thought on her face. “Hey, ‘storia,” she said, “do you remember the song I taught you a few days ago?”

“Yep,” said Historia, continuing her trudge.

“Here, wait,” Frieda said. “Put this on. I want to try something.” She pulled out a thin, shimmering necklace. In the center, a blue rock, with an engraved crimson crest. Historia looked up at her sister in curiosity. Frieda knelt down beside her. Carefully, she tied the necklace around Historia’s neck. “Good,” Frieda said. “Now—I want you to try singing that song.”

“Why?” Historia felt a strange, sudden feeling of reluctance.

“It’s okay.” Frieda squeezed her hand. “I’m right here. I’ll sing it with you, okay?”

“Okay,” Historia said. With Frieda’s encouragement, she opened her mouth, and quietly pronounced the first verse. “ _Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.”_ As she said it, the crystal around her neck flashed a bright blue.

“Keep going!” Frieda encouraged, as Historia stopped to look. “You’re doing great.”

 _“Tell her to make me a cambric shirt,”_ Historia sang. _“Parsley, sage rosemary and thyme. Without a seam, or needlework. Then she’ll be a true love of mine.”_

Surely the crickets in the trees were chirping louder, now, and the crystal flashed intermittently. Not after every word, but in a sort of pattern—alien, yet familiar. _“Tell her to find me an acre of land. Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. Between the salt water and the sea sand. Then she’ll be a true love of mine.”_

_“Tell her to reap it with a sickle of leather._

_Parsley, sage rosemary and thyme._

_And gather it all in a bunch of heather._

_Then she’ll be a true love of mine._

_Are you going to Scarborough Fair?_

_Yesterday grows merry with time._

_Remember me to the one who lives there,_

_She once was a true love of mi—_

And the world slipped down and away from under her. She was tumbling through the void, some burning sensation carved into her chest. Bright blue lines spread out, a gridline on a sea of darkness. She saw memories of things she’d never experienced. Faces, voices, words, pictures, gravestones. She saw towns and cities burning. She saw great shadowed figures lumbering in between the flames.

“Historia!”

She saw a man with glasses and the face of a beast. She saw rose-red blood that trickled between the floorboards. She saw the girl who held the knife that she’d cut from her own heart. She saw the boy who dreamed of airfoils as he slept. In the center of it all, she saw the flying city that dwelt within the clouds, and the things that lay within the stony walls, waiting… waiting… listening.

“HISTORIA!”

She came to. Her vision cleared, and she was back at the path by the woods, the foothills in the distance where the sun was setting. Frieda stared desperately into her eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Historia simply blinked, tried to clear the images from her head. “What happened?”

“I didn’t realize it would be so strong,” Frieda said. “That was the crystal imprinting on you. You’re its controller now. It’ll listen to you sing.”

Historia shook her head. “I don’t wanna sing anymore.”

Frieda took one of Historia’s hands and held it gently. “You must, ‘storia,” she said. “It’s part of our family tradition. Everyone who bears the crystal must sing, because that’s how you activate its most powerful spells—with verse. I promise the visions won’t come this time. Give it a try?”

Historia shook her head again, a tear running down her face. In her mind’s eye she saw houses melting in the flame.

“I promise,” Frieda said. She wiped the tear from Historia’s face, held her close and hugged her, said: “I’m sorry to make you do this. But you have to learn. It’s the burden our family carries.”

“You promise the nightmares won’t come back?”

“I promise. I promise, I promise.”

 

In that evening twilight six months ago, Historia stood and worked up her courage. As the sun set, and the path by the woods grew dark, she opened her mouth once again. She sang the same words as before, her voice quiet and cautious.

She trembled, stuttered—on the last verse—but finished it, bravely. As she did, the crystal thrummed, this time a low and melodic tone.

All around them, fireflies came alive in the dark. Historia and Frieda watched as the fireflies, more then they’d ever known existed, arranged themselves on the woodland path. They formed a line of shimmering light, that curved off into the distance.

“Wherever you go, wherever you are in the world,” Frieda said. “If you sing this song while holding the crystal, it’ll lead you to safety. It’ll show you the path home.”

As if on cue, Historia’s stomach growled. Frieda laughed and grabbed her basket. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go home and eat.”

 

* * *

**Present Day**

“Hey, Krista, look,” Eren said. The automobile rumbled along the gravel-dirt road. “Just past the bridge is the mines, we’ll be able to hole up there for a while. I’ll introduce you to Uncle Pixis. He’s this nice but kind of crazy old man. He lives in the tunnels and drinks a lot and talks to rocks.”

“Eren, there something I haven’t told you yet,” she said, over the rumble of the engine and the crunching of gravel and the sound of the wind.

“Hm?” He looked at her, curious.

“My real name. It isn’t Krista. It’s Historia. My true name is Historia Reiss.”

“Reiss?” He thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Historia glanced over at Sasha and Connie, who were chatting to themselves. _It’s better they don’t hear this. It would only put them in danger. But Eren deserves to know what he’s getting into._ She leaned forward and whispered. “My family has passed this crystal down, generation to generation, for a hundred years. For a long time, I never knew why.” She paused, and then continued. “In the center of a crystal is a small crimson crest. It shows a small figure, like a man with wings. When I was kidnapped, I finally learned where the crest comes from.”

Eren glanced down at the crystal she held in her hands. He noticed the crest. His eyes widened.

“It’s the same crest that’s on the book in your study,” Historia whispered. “It’s the crest of the royal family of Laputa.”


	11. Trust Fall

The canyon of Shiganshina, also known as the Great Gorge, was considered one of the natural wonders of the world. It was a massive scar in the earth, and it went so deep that for most of the day, save for when the sun was directly overhead, the bottom lay obscured by shadow.

A single metal truss railway bridge extended over it, to cart back ore from the mines. Eren’s father, an engineer, had been consulted when it’d been built. Eren still had the schematics in one of the drawers of his cabin.

There were stories about the Great Gorge too, old ghost tales that the people of Shiganshina told. They said the canyon itself was manmade, that the ancients had ripped apart the earth using some technology long-forgotten. Why the ancients would do such a thing, the stories never explained.

There were other weird things that Eren had encountered there. The sides of the canyon were pocked full of tunnel entrances—and there were a few tunnels that led straight to the bottom. Eren had taken the lift all the way down one day, to prospect for a potential silver deposit. He hadn’t found anything too promising in the way of silver, but instead he’d stumbled across an interesting white-rock formation, there in the very depths of the chasm.

The rocks had formed in an odd way—giant, curved stalagmites, and they hadn’t been made of any substance he could easily identify. From a certain angle, they’d almost resembled a massive ribcage.

 

* * *

 

“Hm. That’s interesting.” Sasha said. They drove along the canyon road, which winded its way up alongside the canyon to the bridge. Connie gazed at it from the passenger seat—he’d let Sasha take over driving again. “There’s an armored train,” he finished.

There was indeed an armored train, idling quietly on the other side. It was a large beast of a machine, armored plate shining in the midday sun, and a vicious turret lying up top. “It must be here to protect the mines,” Sasha said. “I guess the Army caught wind of those pirates. Well, I’m startin’ to feel a lot safer now, with that artillery piece as back-up.”

She let the car come to a halt by the side of the bridge. “Looks like this is your stop, kids. I ain’t gonna be able to get you to the excavation with that thing in the way, so I guess ya gonna have to walk.” She patted the rifle. “I’ll stay here with the automobile, keep a lookout for pirates. Connie, would you mind takin’ the kids to the mines?”

“Sure,” Connie said, hopping out.

“Great, love ya Springer. And hurry back after you drop ‘em off. All that car-chasin’ really worked me up an appetite.”

Sasha hugged Eren goodbye, a tight, smothering embrace that left him gasping for air. “Miss ya, kid. Stay safe.” Then she turned to Historia, and hugged her too. “Hey, wished I could have, uh, gotten to know you under different circumstances and all.” She leaned back and looked Historia in the eye. “Take care of ‘ol Eren there,” Sasha said. “He’s pretty smart, but he can also be a little bit dumb sometimes, if ya know what I mean.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Historia promised. “Thank you for everything, Sasha.”

“Aw, don’t mention it.” Sasha winked at her. “Nothin’ more than a little Shiganshina hospitality.”

She waved them goodbye as the three approached the railway bridge.

 

* * *

 

Though the bridge has been built for rail, there was a small pedestrian walkway on the side. It was narrow, and the guardrail short. Historia glanced over the side nervously as they clambered up the stairs onto it, and regretted the decision instantly. The bottom of the canyon was a thin line of darkness. She swallowed, and resolved to not look down again, instead staring resolutely at the small of Eren’s back.

“Connie, how’d you and Sasha meet?” she asked, to distract herself.

Connie scratched his head and laughed. “Well, Sasha and I are both engineers at the Academy. We met at, uh… well we were at a formal dance, some military-sponsored thing, and I ducked into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Sasha was there stuffing food from the pantry into her bag.”

“Yeah, that’s classic,” Eren said.

“It was an interesting start, for sure. To be specific… she was stealing potatoes. And then I kept running into her in the hallways, and classes and stuff, and I’d always call her Potato Girl. Eventually, she got sick of it, I guess, and invited me over for dinner. You know, to try to redeem herself.”

“Did you make loaves?” Historia asked.

Connie turned six shades of red and muttered something about cooking.

Eren suddenly pointed a finger at the armored train. “Hey, look!” he said. “There are soldiers getting out!” Sure enough, men in uniform were starting to clamber out of the train, as Eren, Connie, and Historia approached on the bridge. “Maybe they heard about the pirates chasing us,” Eren said. “They probably want to ask us what happened.”

“Looks like it’s the Military Police,” Connie said. “I recognize the uniform. That’s the branch of the army that’s stationed in Mitras. Hey, I wonder if it’s anyone I know.”

Historia had a weird, tugging feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Hey, Eren, Connie, can you let me in front?” she asked. “I just want to see…” she pushed herself forward and took a good look at the army men.

There, leading them in the front: a horrible and familiar face.

“Krista, Krista, Krista,” Zeke sang. “Oh, how I’ve missed ya.”

 

* * *

 

A sheer, blind panic ripped through Historia. She wanted to scream and throw up at the same time. Eren seemed to notice instantly. “Historia, what’s wrong?” he asked sharply.

Connie was looking at the approaching soldiers. If he’d noticed Eren using Historia’s real name, he gave no indication of it. Instead, he was frowning. “Oi, oi, oi,” he said, “Why are they running at us?”

Zeke and the other soldiers had suddenly broke out into a jog, the walkway vibrating as their boots pounded into the metal tresses.

“That man,” Historia stammered. “He’s the one who… kidnapped me, and then he… my sister…”

“Eren, listen to me,” Connie said. He hadn’t lifted his eyes from the advancing soldiers. “Take your friend and run back to Sasha. Tell her to step on it. I’ll hold these guys off.”

“Are you gonna be—”

“Don’t think about it, just go,” Connie said.

Eren hesitated for a split second, then took Historia’s hand and the two of them dashed back the way they’d come. Historia shot terrified glances back at Connie. He stood with his hand squared—she had to look forward again, then when she’d glanced back, he’d disappeared in a throng of soldiers. And then there was just Zeke and the other men chasing them down.

They weren’t going to make it. Historia could sense it instinctively. The bridge was too long, and she and Eren were too exhausted already. The soldiers were gaining on them quickly.

The crystal burned hot against her neck.

“Eren,” she said, pulling him to a stop. “Do you trust me?”

He frowned at her. “Of course.”

“Hold on to me,” she said. “Grab very tightly, okay?”

“What—why, what are you—”

She pointed to the guardrail of the bridge.

His eyes widened. He glanced at the crystal around her neck, gulped, and then nodded. “I trust you,” he said.

She reached forward and squeezed him tightly, burying her head into his chest. She felt him lock his arms behind her. “Ready?” he whispered.

“Stop them!” she heard Zeke cry. “Don’t let them escape!”

Eren took two steps back, Historia moving with him. She squeezed her eyes shut, heart pounding in terror. Then, there was just the sensation of pitching forward, as Eren leaned back… and the two of them tumbled over the guardrail together, their arms locked in a desperate embrace, their world turning upside down, over and over.

Historia held him with all the strength she could, giving into the sense of freefall, the terrifying loss of control. The air whipped them, roaring into their ears, trying to break them free of each other. But Eren only held her closer.

 

* * *

 

A mile away, nestled between a pair of worn-out tumbleweeds, Mikasa stared through a spyglass. Her and Ymir had made the walk to the canyon-side, while Petra and Kenny worked on fixing the tire. From her vantage point, she could see the entirety of the bridge.

She watched as Eren, Connie, and Historia walked towards the armored train.

She saw the soldiers get out and give chase.

Her grip around the spyglass tightened as Eren and Historia pitched over the side.

And then she saw the bright blue flash, visible even from here, and she saw Historia and Eren slow in the air, until they were gently floating like feathers. She watched as they disappeared into the canyon’s shadow.

“There’s the crystal,” she said angrily. “It’s power is going to be mine. I swear it.”

“Girl, you really need some hobbies,” Ymir said.


	12. And the Sky is Grey

**Trost, on the same morning that Historia woke in Eren's cabin:**

The smell of bacon wafted through the tenement. Rico was bent over the gas stove, nudging the pieces on the copper tray. The crackle and hiss, the sizzle of cooking oil, the heat of the stove, the music of a panhandling band, playing outside. Mike was content.

The scrape of metal spatula on tray, and then Rico was walking over. She lay a plate of bacon and eggs in front of Mike, with a clink, then sat down at the table.

“You really didn’t have to,” Mike said. “I don’t mind cooking.”

“You cooked last time,” Rico insisted. “I had to return the favor.”

Their relationship had progressed in the past week. Mike had stayed over at her place last night. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, what had finally pushed them from being good friends to something more. Maybe recent events had given him perspective… made him realize how lucky he was to have her in his life.

“How’s the hunt going?” she asked, scooping up eggs with her fork, not looking quite at him.

“We’re getting closer to the truth,” he said.

“And is the truth what you thought it would be?”

He shook his head, picked at his food. “These men,” he said. “The interior MP’s. It’s nasty, Rico, what they get up to. And they’re men of our own military.”

“What makes them so different from us?” Rico asked. He could sense the curiosity in her voice.

“In terms of what they’re willing to do, they go to lengths I’ve never seen,” Mike said. “They’ll torture, kill, hurt innocents… I shouldn’t talk too much about it actually.” He paused. “But as for what they _believe_ in… it’s the same as us… king, queen, country. I don’t know what makes them willing to do what they do. And that scares me.”

They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence. Mike knew Rico well enough, by that point, to know when she was worrying about him. He wished he had deflected her question. There were other, more pleasant things to talk about.

Eventually, he glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. “I need to go,” he said. “I’m meeting agent Leonhardt soon.”

“Okay,” Rico said. “Let me get your coat.”

As she went to the coatracks, he grabbed the plates and went to the wash basin. He cranked the handle for water and rinsed off the silverware. He placed the plates gently on the counter.

At the front door, Rico had his coat for him. He slid it on, reached a hand to the inside pocket, and felt for the smooth metal of his gun. There was a sense of comfort as he reaffirmed it was still there. He bent down, kissed Rico on the cheek. “I’m going to be busy for the next few nights,” he said. “But I’ll see you at the ring on Thursday?”

“Stay safe,” she whispered.

He winked. “Of course.” The wind whistled as he opened the door.

“Mike, wait.”

She reached up and put her hands on either side of his face. She turned his head. There was a little grey smudge on the frame of her glasses.

She kissed him, shyly.

He reacted on instinct—drawing an arm around her waist, his hand on the slight curve of her back. Pulling her to him. They stayed close for a long while.

She nestled her head against his chest. Her soft hair brushed against his chin.

He hadn’t expected physical displays of affection from her, hadn’t thought Rico that kind of person. In their exchanges, she’d always preferred to articulate things.

But… if she couldn’t find the words to say, then that was no fault of hers—never her—no.  If there existed words to capture a feeling, an emotion, a meaning, then she’d have found them. If anything, her kiss proved the spoken language incomplete.

 

* * *

 

The leaves of the oak trees were a sickly brown, the sky an overcast white. They were heading back to the church to meet their informant. Erwin had agreed to grant clemency.

“Are you okay with this, Annie?” Mike asked. “We’re offering a pardon to someone who murdered civilians.”

“And if we don’t find out everything he has, then Zeke will murder a whole lot more,” Annie said.

“We don’t know that.”

Annie looked right at him. She looked different than Mike had ever seen her. He couldn’t describe her expression. “I know it,” Annie said. “I’m sure.”

Mike felt goosebumps creep up his arm. He laughed, nervous. “Okay,” he said. “I won’t argue. He in the same place as last time?” They were walking up the steps to the church.

“Should be. I’m going to wait in one of the back pews. If he agrees to extraction, then we should be ready to go. Don’t make him nervous,” Annie said. “If this guy thinks you’re lying about a pardon, if he so much as thinks there’s a possibility of that, he’ll bug out. These interior MP’s have made it this far by being incredibly paranoid. Don’t scare him off.”

“Hey, relax,” Mike said. “I’m smooth.”

Annie grunted. “No, you’re insufferable. I don’t know how Rico puts up with you.”

“Honestly? Me neither. She’s the better half.”

Annie grabbed the door to the church, held it open, gestured for him to go in first. “That’s one thing we agree on. Go get it done.”

 

* * *

 

Mike knelt, his knees scraping against the cold wood. He slid the door shut.

“I’m here,” he said. “I have good news. Erwin’s prepared to cut a deal.”

There was no answer.

“Don’t tell me you’re backing out,” Mike said. When the silence remained, he shook his head and sighed. “Are you even in there?” he demanded.

He started to stand up… then sniffed. Something smelled weird. A metal taste in the air, coppery, like the copper tray from this morning. He looked, and then saw it. A drop of blood dripping from the speaking hole of the confessional.

There was blood coming from the other side.

There was someone _bleeding_ on the other side.

There was— their informant—someone had—almost certainly dead—and now the killer—there was good reason to believe the killer—was still here—in this building—

Mike opened the door to the confessional and scrambled out. Annie was nowhere to be seen. A tall figure stood near the doors of the church, framed in the light. He stepped forward and Mike got a good look.

Mike thought he knew who the man was.

He had a typical Marleyan profile—slicked back dirty-blonde hair, a prominent nose, dark black brows, and his eyes. He had cruel eyes. There was rage there, festering, Mike could see it. This man had watched other men die.

He had to be the Jaw.

And the Marleyan moved like an assassin. There was no other way to describe it. Nothing exactly about his gait gave it away, just some natural grace to his motions that suggested at any given moment in time, he was perfectly balanced. There was a certain _laziness_ to it, as if moving through the air was impossibly easy.

Mike had only seen one other person who moved the same way. That had been Levi Ackerman, a short, dark-haired, grimace of a man, who’d stained fields red during the war.

The Jaw walked towards him down the aisle, passing by each set of pews. His footsteps left no sound. As he drew close, Mike saw how large the man truly was. His shoulders were nearly bursting out of his coat. His fists were like corrugated iron cannonball. Strangely, he had a navy-blue pocket square jutting out of his collared shirt. _This guy dresses up for murder,_ Mike thought. There was something quite intimidating about that. But also, a little motivational. It was a pretty bold fashion choice.

“Is that coat from Reeves Brothers?” Mike called out. “Looks pretty expensive.” He was aching to reach into his own coat, produce the gun he had pressed up between the fabric and his chest.

The Jaw stepped onto the dais. When he spoke, it was with a stilted accent. “The shop that made this piece no longer exists,” he said. “It was firebombed by your countrymen.”

“Oh, well, lucky you!” Mike said. “I bet it’s worth a fortune now.”

Across the man’s face there was a sort of terrifying quiver, a momentary glimpse of restrained _something_ , and Mike felt his heartrate triple. “What are you here for?” Mike asked. “I’m guessing you’re not here to kill me, because you’d have had plenty of chances to do that already.”

“I’m here to obtain you for Zeke Yeager,” said the Jaw.

Quick as a snake, Mike drew his pistol and fired. He saw the man simply step aside, impossibly fast, but Mike wasn’t waiting around—he was sprinting and he dived behind the back of the confessional booth, landing with a crash. He hugged the pistol close and caught his breath. Then he started to feel a sliver of pain, and he looked down to see that he was bleeding.

Only then did his mind reconstruct what had just happened. The man had dodged the shot, with almost superhuman agility, stepping back, and to the side. In the same motion, he had brought his own pistol up, gracefully, until the barrel lay at a perfect, twin angle with the floor, directed just below Mike’s shoulder. Then the Jaw had shot Mike, maybe twice.

“Ah,” Mike said. The pain was starting to blossom now.

“Rico Brzenka,” the Jaw’s voice said, seemingly close and far away at the same time. “Grey-hair. Glasses. Lives in Trost. Member of the Garrison. We know everything there is to know about her. Where she lives, how she commutes, where she eats lunch, how long it would take the landlord to discover her body rotting beneath the floorboards. If you cooperate, she goes on with her life, maybe occasionally wondering after you, but nothing else the different. If you fight, though…”

The strength went out of Mike’s legs. He slid down against the wood of the confessional. His head lulled. He thought of Rico and how they’d matched breaths as they’d kissed, and he thought of the curls of her hair, and how she’d leaned against him, and the way she’d always, always cared.

He realized what he should have done that morning.

He should have left the Survey Corps behind; he and Rico could’ve taken an airship to some far corner of the world, someplace, anyplace, left it all to wither.

War, duty, honor, peace. Words that prey on men.

With a callous, defeated motion he threw his pistol out onto the dais. It clattered along the waxed wood floor, sliding until it came to a stop.

“I give up,” he said.

“Wonderful,” came the voice of the Jaw.


	13. Woven with Memory, Pt 1

Eren had always dreamed of flying.

He’d spent many sleepless nights in the studio, working on his aeroplane. Eventually passing out from exhaustion, in his dreams, he’d flown without wings. Just his body, soaring sunward, dancing in the tumbling mirth of raincloud. In those dreams he’d reached such heights that all was still, everything quiet—no clank and clamor of pistons, no shrill hiss of steam.

Flying was freedom. Each day, as he woke, he found himself burdened by gravity. Until now…

…until the moment Historia had come into his life, drifting from heaven like some wayward star.

 

* * *

 

Now the two of them, Eren and Historia, plummeted through the canyon, air whipping them from side to side. Their bodies tumbled.

FLASH!

The bright blue sheen of the magic crystal. They slowed in the air… the terrible tug of the earth silenced.

They floated, gently spinning. Historia held him tight. “Don’t let go,” she cautioned.

Eren gazed around at the canyon. So many times, he’d come down in the lift, tucked against the rock walls, never imagining that one day he’d see the Great Gorge like _this!_ And the feeling, the sensation… it was as though his body was weightless, as if the air was buoyant.

“Oh…” he said. “If I had a crystal of my own, I’d come up to the side of the Gorge every day, just to jump off.”

He felt at peace in a way he’d never felt before. It just felt _right_. Man was not meant to spend his life with two feet planted firmly on the ground, that Eren knew for sure. The earth’s gravity was like a cage, and he was a bird.

A small motion caught his eye. Small specks of steam from the upper sides of the gorge. The lifts on either side were descending. “Historia,” he said. “Those men are coming after us. Once we touch the bottom, we’re going to have to move into the tunnels.”

“Okay. I’m ready,” she said.

The ground was steadily creeping up on them—at their rate of descent, maybe a few minutes away. Eren knew it would take the lifts at least half an hour to reach them. They’d have a good head start. “You know,” he said. “I keep remembering that we only just met.”

“I owe you, Eren,” she said. “And Sasha, and Connie, and all the others. I don’t deserve any of it.”

Eren thought of all the nights he’d spent dreaming of a moment like this. “You don’t owe me anything,” he said. “I’m glad you fell from the sky…” he laughed, “…even if it probably wasn’t that fun for you.” His voice grew serious. “Historia, can you tell me who that man on the bridge was? How did you end up here? How did you end up with that crystal?”

He heard her swallow audibly.

“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to,” he said.

“No, I do. I will.” She closed her eyes. “Eren, I was given the crystal by my sister. And she got it from our mother, who got it from her mother… it’s been passed down in my family for generations, as long as we can remember.”

“But it has the royal crest of Laputa. How did your family get it?” Eren said. He scrunched his eyebrows together.

“I didn’t know what any of it meant until a few months ago,” Historia said. “I didn’t even know what Laputa was. But now I’m starting to understand.”

Comprehension dawned on Eren. “You mean…?”

“It’s a secret,” Historia said. “Please, you mustn’t tell anyone, or say my true name around other people. I’m just Krista. I’m a good girl, and I found a crystal. I’m nobody of importance.”

With that, the ground rushed up to meet them. They landed with a soft thud on the dust and rock of the canyon floor.

Untwining, catching their breath—they regained their bearings. “This way,” Eren said, after a bit. “I know where we are. There’s a tunnel not far from here.”

And indeed, there was. It was small, and pitch-black. Next to the mine entrance, there was a little metal box nailed to the canyonside. Eren flipped open the top and drew out two packs. “They store things here for the miners.” He handed one pack to Historia. “Just biscuits and water,” he said, apologetically. Then from the box he drew out two headlamps.

He reached over and carefully strapped one to Historia’s head. He played with it for a second, ‘til it switched on. “We’re gonna need these,” he said, strapping on his own. “It’s about to get dark.”

 

* * *

 

“Can I hold your hand?” she whispered, about five minutes into the tunnel. The headlamps were barely helpful—it was still so dark, and she was terrified that Eren would accidentally leave her behind, alone. Who knows what kind of things lurked down here, buried beneath the earth, long forgotten?

She felt Eren take her hand in his. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he said. “I’ve been through these mines a thousand times. It’s just old rock.”

They walked on for a few minutes more. Something inside Historia’s head was tingling, uncomfortably. She couldn’t shake the sense that there were things _whispering_ , little voices speaking, echoing. Pressure was building up inside of her.

Without fully thinking about it, she started to hum.

A while later, they came to a little underground lake. Water dripped from stalactites into a dark pool on the floor. “Let’s take a break,” Eren said. He plopped down against a rock wall. “So, what do you think of the mines?” he asked.

Historia sat down next to him. She wasn’t sure how to bring up the voices she thought she kept hearing, and she wasn’t sure what Eren would think of her if she mentioned it.

Luckily, Eren moved on to another topic. “How come you wanted to hold my hand?” he asked. There was something in his voice, a note of curiosity, but also a little bit of nervousness.

“It was dark… I got scared. Sorry, was it bothering you?”

“No, of course not,” he said. “It’s just, you know…” He shifted uncomfortably. “Where did you say you were from again?”

“I grew up in a small cottage, by the woods of a land named Gondowa. I think it’s very far from here. When they took me in the airship, we travelled a long way.”

“Things are probably different there,” he said.

“Well, I’m not sure. I didn’t know very many people. Sometimes I’d meet a few travelers from the village, but I spent most days with just my sister.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Why do you ask?”

“It’s nothing,” he said. He looked disappointed. “It’s just, here, people hold hands when—well, usually… I mean… if it’s a boy and a girl, then…”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Don’t worry about it, Historia.”

There was a lull in the conversation. The silence was punctuated by the drip-drop of the stalactites. They took the time to eat the biscuits they had stored in their miners’ packs.

“What’s that song you were humming?” Eren asked eventually.

“Oh,” she hadn’t even realized. “It’s a song I used to sing. It’s called Scarborough Fair.” She cleared her throat. “It goes like this… _Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. Remember me to the one who lives there. She once was a true love of –“_

 “Historia, look!” Eren cried.

All around them, the rocks had started glowing. And Historia could feel the crystal against her chest, warm, buzzing with energy.

“It’s luminescent,” Eren said. “All these years I’ve been down here, I’ve never seen anything like this. I wonder why it chose to act up just now.”

They sat in silence and watched. The deep brown of the rock walls, interlaced with pulsing blue and white, little rivulets and hairline veins. Mineral traces of some beautiful, mysterious element. Historia looked down further into the tunnel. The blue-white vein ran along the wall into the dark, like a pathway, or a beacon. All of a sudden, she remembered her sister’s words. “ _Wherever you are in the world, sing this song, and it’ll lead you to home.”_

Then, still looking further into the tunnel, she thought she saw a shadow flicker.

“Eren,” she said. “I just saw something.”

He frowned. “Hm?”

Then they both heard it—a scraping along the rocks.

Eren leapt to his feet. “Who’s there?” he shouted.

A face loomed out of the darkness.


	14. Woven with Memory, Pt 2

The face was a wrinkled, wizened one—parchment skin. It was an old man.

He peered at them. “Is that you, Eren?” he croaked. In one hand, he held a wooden cane, with which he precariously balanced. In the other hand he had a drinking flask.

“Uncle Pixis!” Eren cried. He dashed forward and gave the man a hug. “You scared us! We didn’t hear you coming."

“Yes, well, mm, you know, the rocks. They were just too noisy,” Uncle Pixis mumbled, “So chatty today. Old stories, they’ve been telling. Tales I haven’t heard for many years….”

“Uncle Pixis, can I introduce you to my friend Krista?”

He led the old man forward, towards Historia. “Pleased to meet you,” she said, and curtsied—though the gesture was no doubt lost in the faint luminescent light.

“Ah, I say. Is that a lady friend that Eren has brought into these mines? My old eyes don’t work so well anymore,” Uncle Pixis said.

“She’s a friend who’s a lady, she’s not a lady friend,” Eren explained.

Uncle Pixis shook his head. “First, they start recruiting the kids to be miners, next the women! Soon we’re gonna have babies and puppies down here with pick-axes.”

Historia giggled. “It’s okay, I’m not a miner,” she said. “Eren was just… showing me around.”

“Ah, I see, I see,” Pixis said. He took a drink from his flask. “Eren, you sly dog.”

“What? No!” Eren spluttered. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s wrong.”

“Oh, no need to explain,” Uncle Pixis said. Historia saw him wink at Eren in the dim light. “I used to show my lady friends around the mines too… if ya know what I mean. That was back in my younger days. My, my. Yes... I used to be quite the spelunker.”

There was a moment of silence in the cave. Eren’s face went through the five stages of grief. “I wish I could unhear that,” he muttered to himself. “I really, really wish I could unhear that.”

“So!” Uncle Pixis said. “What brings you two down into the caves? And what’re you up to, that’s making the rocks so chatty?”

“Chatty?” Historia asked. “What do you mean?” A part of her wondered if he was talking about the voices, the little whispers that she’d been hearing.

“Well.” Pixis took a long swig and then tapped the side of his head. “You know, ever since my eyes stopped working, my ears have been hearing more and more. And the rocks, they like to gossip, you know. Then all of a sudden, I’m minding my own business, and they start shouting, real loudly. And I follow all the noise and commotion, and that’s how I got to you.”

“It must be the light,” Historia said, gazing at the shining rock wall. “Maybe it also makes some kind of sound. But I can’t hear anything.” She shook her head. “Uncle Pixis, I don’t understand. Earlier, I was hearing voices in the cave. I thought I was crazy. Now you say the rocks are loud, but I can’t hear anything. What’s going on? I don’t understand!”

In the corner of her eye, she saw Eren staring at her curiously.

Uncle Pixis leaned forward and put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s because you gotta know how to listen,” he said. “Here, come. Let me just sit down for a second. I’ll tell you kids a secret about these rocks.”

With a heavy sigh, he hobbled over to the side of the cave, his wood cane scraping against the stony floor. Eren helped him down to the ground, where he sat, propped against the wall, and let out a breath of relief. “That’s better,” he said, then chugged from his flask for five straight seconds.

“Uncle Pixis, you might have a drinking problem,” Eren said.

“Nonsense. I’ve no problem drinking,” Pixis replied. “Actually, I’m quite good at it. You might even say I’m an alcoholic.” He wrung the last few drops from his flask into his mouth. “Alas. Empty.” He tossed the empty flask into the air. It bounced against the far wall and landed in a stalactite pool.

Pixis reached into his coat and drew out a new bottle, twice as large. He took another long swig and smacked his lips. “That really hits the spot,” he said. Then he blinked and looked around. “Hold on. Where in the blazes am I? Who am I?” He looked at Eren and Historia. “Who are you?”

“That’s Historia, I’m Eren, you’re Uncle Pixis, we’re in a cave, and you were telling us a secret about rocks,” Eren said.

“Oh right. Come on, then, take a seat, children. Let me tell you about aetherium, just as my grandfather told me…”

* * *

“…what people don’t know is this: we once knew how to harness the power in these rocks. The true power, I mean. I’m not talking about silver or gold or coal—not those worthless metals. The ancients knew how to melt and smith the fine grains, little strands of what was once called _aetherium._ Aetherium can’t be melted with heat, though, that’s what makes it so tricky. The mineral degrades if you try that. It only responds to certain frequencies. Lost pitches… alchemical harmonies. Those ancient forgehands who worked with aetherium, they called them the songsmiths. And aetherium is a persistent metal, too, it could store energy for years, decades. Centuries, even. It has a _memory_.”

Uncle Pixis took a drink from his flask. “Even now, the rocks down here echo,” he said. “They remember. Tales of the great masterpieces, that’s what they speak of. Masterpieces from that age so long ago. The pure aetherium crystals, finest craftwork of the songsmiths. The ancients, they encoded these crystals with great intelligence, layering in memories of spells. And faces, and voices, and emotion.”

Uncle Pixis’s face had come alive in the faint blue luminescent light, as he told the story. But now he looked sad. “Many years have passed,” he said. “The rocks remember. But to us, the forgetful human race. The crystals are long lost. We no longer possess the knowledge of how to craft aetherium.”

Quietly…

…Historia reached down and pulled out her necklace. The soft blue stone hummed gently in the center. “Crystals like this?” she asked.

Uncle Pixis turned to gaze at the stone. His old eyes squinted in the light, then widened. He reached one hand forward, then stopped himself, trembling. “My god.” He recoiled suddenly, one hand flying to his mouth. “No,” he gasped. “No, please, it’s terrible!”

“What’s wrong, Uncle Pixis?” Eren cried.

Historia drew back, the crystal in her hand still humming, like a pale blue dragonfly.

“Please, put that thing away!” Uncle Pixis said, pressing himself back against the rock wall. “I’m sorry, it’s too loud for me…”

Historia tucked the crystal back into her shirt, and after some time, Uncle Pixis stopped trembling. His shaky hands reached for his bottle. “A drink,” he croaked. Eren reached forward and brought the flask to his lips. Pixis took a few grateful sips, then sighed in relief.

He looked at Historia. “You carry a terrible burden,” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “I know.”

“You must not let that crystal fall into the wrong hands,” Pixis said.

“I know. I know.”

“What?” Eren was looking between the two of them in confusion. “What’s going on? What are you guys talking about?”

“Eren, my boy,” Uncle Pixis grabbed Eren’s hand, suddenly. “You must protect the princess at all costs.”

“The princess?” Eren said. “How do you know about—who told you—I’m so confused!”

“There are old forces at work here, ancient plans coming to fruition,” Pixis said. His eyes shone. “And plans within plans, too. The paths our ancestors took... Our ancestors, they cast long shadows upon us. We tremble in their footsteps. Their will is like a mighty river. And we must hold tight to one another or be swept away.”

“You’ve finally lost it!” Eren cried. “Historia, we’re getting out of here!”

He backed away from Pixis and motioned for her frantically. Historia got to her feet. She smiled at Uncle Pixis as she passed him, though, and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overwhelm you. I didn’t realize the crystal was so powerful.”

Pixis shook his head. “No, it’s fine,” he said. “It was worth it….” He looked up at her. “Good luck, princess, and remember. The rocks, they’re always speaking. You just have to know how to listen.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. Then she turned back to Eren, who stood framed in the luminescent glow of the cave-rock wall. She reached forward and took his hand. “Lead the way,” she said. And they went up through the tunnel, following that shining blue aetherium road as it led them through the mines, up out of the ground, to the air, to the green grass and faint pale sky—so the magic in those rocks always yearns skyward. Longing to break from the earth.

Always upward, always skyward. Some things are born to seek freedom.


	15. The Spell of Destruction

They stood on a hilltop, by the mine exit. Somehow, they’d been led to a tunnel furthest away from the town, one which winded up into the foothills. Now, finally out of the dark, they had to blink while their eyes adjusted.

From here they could see the whole mining town spread out beneath them. Thin wisps of fog clung to the brick tenement houses, by the wood-plat church. To the west of Shiganshina, the Great Gorge darted across the earth, a sharp zigzag line that shrunk into the distance, ‘til it disappeared over the horizon.

How high would you have to go, to see the canyon in all its grandeur? What did the birds up there think of it, from their view? The doves that soared above them—sun reflecting off their plumage. What would the world look like, if you had silvered wings?

Eren’s father had told him once that to see the curvature of the earth, to actually observe the horizon as an arc rather than a straight line, it took an altitude of over 50,000 feet.

No wonder people sent airships and aeroplanes into the sky. Hot air balloons, wind-sail paragliders… zeppelins and blimps and gas-fired freighter planes. And long ago, the ancients had built the great flying city of Laputa. How could they not? To see the world from up on high, to gaze down below and see it all… land and ocean and mountain like a portrait, and above you the starry crown of heaven. It must change you, it must move something within you, to see with the eyes of God.

Eren shivered, inadvertently, as he stared up into the clouds. Beside him, Historia was looking at the same sky.

“Historia,” Eren said. “Why did Uncle Pixis say that you carry a terrible burden?”

She was still looking at the clouds. She couldn’t meet his eye. Finally, she glanced at him. Her lip was trembling. “Eren, there’s something I haven’t told you.”

He leveled his gaze. “I know. So, tell me.”

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

 

* * *

 

**Two Months Prior**

A cool breeze rustled through the field. Historia paused, her hand inches away from a plump pumpkin. She looked up, her fruit basket falling to the grass, as a shadow passed over the ground.

High above her, a shape blotted out the sun. At the time she didn’t know what it was. Later, she’d learn that it was an airship, a military craft from the nation of Eldia.

“HISTORIA!”

A voice echoed across the field. Her sister, Frieda, dashed towards her. Her hat had fallen, tumbling into the weeds. She seemed to pay it no heed.

“Frieda, look!” Historia pointed up in the sky. “It’s some kind of metal bird!”

“I know,” Frieda said, coming to a stop next to her. She fell to her knees in the dirt, gripping Historia’s shoulders tightly. “Listen to me, ‘storia. That thing—it’s here for us. I saw a vision of this day, when I held the crystal. We need to leave.”

“Leave?” Historia shook her head. “I don’t want to leave.”

“I know,” Frieda said, and her voice broke. Historia was shocked to see a tear running down her sister’s face.

“We need to go to the house, and you grab everything that’ll fit in a bag, okay? We’re going to need to go into the woods. The men in blue are going to come soon, and we can’t let them find us.”

“Okay,” Historia said.

“And, there’s one more thing.” Frieda looked her in the eye. “If anyone asks, your name isn’t Historia. If people find out who you are, they’ll kill you, or worse. You must become someone different. If someone sees your necklace, then tell them you’re just a girl who found a crystal. A good girl, a shy girl, a sweet girl. A girl nobody would ever notice or think much of. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Historia said. In the distance, the airship was descending.

“Your name is… Krista Lenz,” Frieda said. She turned to look at the ship. Her voice seemed distant when she spoke. “Maybe, if you become this person. Maybe then, they’ll let us be free.”

But it did not happen.

You know this already, readers. How else would the princess have ended up on the airship that night when the pirates attacked? How else would she have fallen from the sky, crossing paths with Eren? The freedom that Frieda and Historia dreamed of—it was not to be.

They almost escaped.

Fleeing through the woods, they cut a clever route, over rivers and streams, doubling back, erasing their trail. The men did not catch up to them 'til evening, as the sun set, and the crickets began to chirp. Perhaps if they’d made it to nightfall, things would have been different. They could have hid amongst the shadows and the roots.

But instead, in the twilight of the woods, shapes started moving in the brush around them. Flashes of blue, and the sounds of boots hitting dirt. Crunching dry leaves. And the reflection of sunlight off bayonets.

“Frieda!” Historia cried out.

“Run,” Frieda panted, though the two of them were exhausted. “Don’t look behind you, ‘storia. Always look forward. Keep—”

A single gunshot rang out through the woods. Birds took flight.

Frieda fell.

Historia screamed. She knelt in the grass and reached for her sister. “You have to get up!” she said. “If you don’t get up, the men will catch us!”

Frieda’s eyes were glazed. She tried to get up but could not. At the time, Historia did not understand what was happening. She’d learn later that Frieda had been suffering from a bullet wound. She’d learn later that the bullet had pierced her sister’s lung, fragmented, then stopped flow of blood to the heart. She’d learn later that such a wound causes shock, asphyxiation, and finally death. She’d learn later that the soldier responsible had been aiming for her sister’s leg. She’d learn later that it was all an accident, really.

An accident, an accident, an accident.

How unfortunate.

In the moment though, Historia did not understand, and she tried to tug her sister uselessly upwards. “Come on!” she screamed.

“Historia,” Frieda panted, her cheek against the ground. “Please, listen to me. I need to—” she grimaced in pain. “—tell you something.”

“But the men are coming! We need to go!”

“We’ll go—as soon as you listen to this… okay?”

Historia dropped down next to her sister. “Okay, but hurry!”

“Historia, there is one spell… I haven’t told you. It is a single word. It must be known, but it can never be used. Do you… understand?”

“Yes, I understand!” Historia said.

“If the word is ever spoken… while you hold the crystal, the spell is activated. But if the spell is forgotten, then it is activated too. It’s our family’s duty… to pass the spell down.”

“I get it!” Historia screamed. “Tell me what it is, so we can go!” (Even then, the figures in blue were approaching them from all sides. There would be no escape.)

Frieda reached out and gripped her hand, weakly. “The name of this spell… is the Spell of Destruction. Are you ready?”

Historia nodded. Frieda leaned in and put her lips to Historia’s ear. There she whispered a single word.

“Okay,” Historia said. “Now we… we have to go…” but she looked around at the men approaching them, too close now, and her voice faltered.

“Trust no one,” Frieda whispered. “Your name is Krista.” She sighed, like the softest sound of the wind. “If only…”

She fell silent.

Historia squeezed her hand.

“Sister?”

“Frieda?”

“FRIEDA?”

The sun winked out over the horizon.

In the trees, the crickets hummed.

 

* * *

 

“I know,” Eren said. “So, tell me.”

She closed her eyes and thought of that day. She thought of watching her sister fall in the grass, and the feeling in her stomach as the men dragged off the body.

“There’s a spell that’s been passed down through my family,” Historia said. “Generation to generation. It can never be used—because it’s a terrible spell—but it can never be forgotten either. There is a dead man’s trigger on it. If ever the knowledge of the spell were to disappear, the spell would activate.”

Eren frowned. “What does the spell do?”

“It destroys the world.”

Eren opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Oh.”

“When I first inherited the crystal, I saw visions of death and fire and whole cities burning. At the time, I thought I was seeing some glimpse of the past.” Historia shook her head. “But now I’m not so sure.”

Eren said nothing.

“That’s why I can’t let the crystal go, Eren,” she said. “It’s too powerful. And I know that you see it—I know you see Laputa—as something beautiful. But to me, ever since I met this crystal, it’s been something chained around my neck.” She palmed the stone and tried to keep her voice level and calm. “It’s a curse that only I can bear.”


	16. Fields of Helos

**Trost:**

Mike Zacharias weaved through the crowd. He walked slowly and deliberately—no sudden movements. Ten paces behind him, the Jaw followed, a pistol hidden in his coat.

Before they left the church, the assassin had said, in a voice soft as a whisper, “I expect you to behave in front of all these people. Shooting you there would cause quite a scene, I think. And then I’d feel obligated to pay poor Rico a visit.”

 _Fine, I’ll play by your rules_ , Mike thought, as he followed the Jaw’s instructions and walked the streets towards the port of Trost. He glanced from face to face, scanning desperately for a sign of Annie. _The Jaw hasn’t mentioned her yet. Maybe she escaped?_

But how could she have? There’d been only brief moments before the Jaw had entered the church. The more likely event, Mike thought with a sinking feeling, was that the Jaw had killed her.

But there was a chance.

Annie was plucky, resourceful, and mysterious. Perhaps she’d managed to outwit the assassin that now followed ten paces behind him.

If so, she’d be able to warn Erwin. And they’d be able to get Rico to safety.

 

* * *

 

Once they reached the port, the Jaw directed Mike over to the outskirts, past a cluster of abandoned, rickety warehouses. Behind those drab buildings lay an old airstrip, and parked at the edge of the strip was a sleek black bi-plane. They walked over to it, the Jaw no longer bothering to conceal the gun he held loosely in his hands.

The plane had three pairs of seats. One, in front, for the pilot, and then two subsequent rows behind that. A young man popped his head out of the plane as they walked towards it. “Did you get ‘im, boss?” he called out.

“Obviously,” the Jaw replied. “Grab the rope and tie him up, Colt.”

Mike lay a hand out and touched the side of the plane. It was a sort of laminated wood, but dark black, instead of brown—and it was a natural black, not painted. Layers of fabric had been laid over this, and the body of the aircraft itself had a thin aluminum skin. “This is a beautiful plane,” he admitted.

“It is,” the Jaw said, as the young man came around with a rope and started to bind Mike’s hands behind him. “The shell is carved—a single, continuous, piece of petrified wood. Light, yet incredibly durable. There's no other craft in the world like it.”

“Petrified wood?” Mike craned his neck around and looked up at the Jaw. “That doesn’t make any sense. Petrified wood is incredibly heavy. It’s… just a fossil. The organic material’s been replaced by mineral.” He looked back at the plane, his mind spinning—for a moment, he forgot he was a captive. “This thing shouldn’t fly,” he said. “It’s just a hunk of rock.”

He heard a trace of lightness in the Jaw’s voice, an inkling of humor. “Very astute. Yes, the original wood has been fossilized, replaced by minerals over thousands of years.” The Jaw took a step forward, placed his foot in a small groove in the plane’s side, hoisted himself up into the pilot’s seat. “But not all minerals are heavier than air.”

Mike stared up at him.

“Come on,” the Jaw said. He gestured, and Mike felt the young man’s hand on his shoulder. “Colt, get the spy up here, and keep an eye on him. Enough dawdling. Zeke wants us back by sundown.”

 

* * *

 

The plane flew like a dream.

Mike had piloted many vessels over the years, having served in the Eldian Air Brigade, both during the war and after it. Airships, zeppelins, bi-planes… even once a hot air balloon. But none of them had felt like this. As they lifted off into the air, there was barely even a shudder—the plane took flight as if suspended by an invisible wire, hanging from the clouds.

The situation was terrible. But the craft that carried him to his imprisonment, torture, and possible death—well, it was dark and black and beautiful. Like Charon’s boat, ferrying him across the river Styx.

“Your name is Porco Galliard, right?” he said to the Jaw, who navigated idly in the pilot’s seat, and whose eyes regularly scanned the horizon. Mike had heard once that it was harder for a man to kill you, if you said their name.

The young man sitting next to him prodded him with the barrel of a gun. “Hey, don’t speak ‘less you're spoken to.”

“It’s fine, Colt,” said the Jaw, his voice calm. “Yes, that’s my name.”

Mike leaned forward. "My name is—"

“I know who you are, Mike Zacharias,” the Jaw said, pushing lightly on the joystick. The plane tipped slightly, one wing rising up—until they were pointed towards the east, the setting sun at their back—and then the plane leveled.

“Your commander, Erwin Smith…” the Jaw said. “Do you know how he lost his arm?”

Mike said nothing.

“Of course you do,” the Jaw continued. “You served under him, during the war. But Colt here hasn’t heard the story, so I’ll repeat it, for his sake.”

Mike glanced at the young man sitting next to him. _He is Marleyan, too_ , Mike thought. _But very young… he would’ve been a child when the war ended. I wonder if his parents…_

“Twelve years ago, as the war came to its close, the Eldian army advanced deep into Marleyan territory,” the Jaw began, his voice soft as an artificial light. “So, they came, leaving their trail of tire marks and footsteps in the baked mud and ash of the battlefield. As they drew near our capital, the Marleyan military launched a fierce counterattack against the Eldian line, a desperate attempt to break through. They met at a place known as the fields of Helos.”

 _The fields of Helos_. Yes, Mike remembered. He remembered everything. The burnt clouds that had hung over the ground, smoke from artillery rising. He’d met the eyes of his squadmates—Nanaba, Geiger, in the heavy hangar of the plane. The clouds had cleared for an instant and they’d seen the battle below them. Bodies strewn across the field like broken toys.

The clasps of the parachute across his chest. They’d jumped from that plane, falling behind enemy lines. The smoke and fog had obscured them as they plummeted to the ground. That had let most of them reach the earth safely. But not everyone. The Marleyans had fired up into the sky as the Survey Corps parachuted in. Mike still remembered that feeling—freefall, as bullets whizzed past him—knowing there was nothing he could do to protect himself, knowing his only choice was to pray.

Yes, Mike remembered the fields of Helos. There was no forgetting that descent into hell.

“We almost broke them,” the Jaw said, his voice heavy now, full of the same pain. “We would have done it… but Erwin Smith, and his elite group of paratroopers, the Survey Corps, came in behind our lines. They took us by surprise, overran our flanks. My brother, Marcel, fought hand-to-hand with Erwin. He fought bravely, my brother…. he died bravely. Marcel lunged—he buried his blade deep into Erwin’s shoulder---and with his other hand, Erwin stabbed my brother right through his heart.”

“You were there,” Mike said.

“I was,” said the Jaw. “I saw it happen, but I was too far away. I ran towards them. I saw Erwin run him through. An artillery blast caught the ground next to me. I was lifted into the air. The world turned black. When I awoke, in the mud and dirt of the trenches—the war had ended. My country had surrendered.”

Mike sat in silence. There was nothing he could say. Somehow, he’d never imagined this—coming face to face with a soldier who’d fought on the opposite side. _We might have run into one another, even. Certainly that day was confusing and terrifying and scattered enough that it could’ve happened, and neither of us would remember. Maybe my bullets killed your friends. And maybe your bullets killed mine._

The side of Porco’s face seemed brown in the sunlight.

 _We were just soldiers, and you were all just the enemy. I never imagined I’d meet one of you. I never imagined…_ Mike shivered inadvertently. _I’m not sure I even imagined you were real._

There is a particular feeling you have to hold in your mind, in order to empty your chamber into the living body of another human being. That feeling is an unbelief that the man or woman across the trench from you is capable of life in the same way you are, capable of happiness or sadness, or love or grief, or emotion.

You are not killing people, that is what they train you to believe. You are killing things.

And you accept this way of thinking, because it is the only way to make sure you do not hesitate with your finger curled around the trigger. If you hesitate, then the enemy gets you instead.

You buy into it. You bury yourself into the mentality. To protect yourself, or your country, or your family, or a loved one. And you train and train until you no longer see a human being in front of you on the battlefield. You are simply aiming at things that move. They could be anything. They could be shadows. They could be cardboard cutouts.

And after it all ended, after days spent aiming and shooting at things that move… then you lay sleepless in your bed at night, and you try to stop the memories from coming back.

How we would give anything to forget the sound of war.

“Erwin Smith. Levi Ackerman. Mike Zacharias. And every other member of the Survey Corps. I have made it my mission to hunt you down and kill you. The names of every man and woman who served on that squad… I have them memorized,” said the Jaw.

Mike remained still, and was quiet. The sky in front of them was growing dark.

“Understand that I do not hate you,” the Jaw said. “I know that you were performing your duty, as soldiers. Just as I was on that day. But understand, too, that I made promises to my comrades as they lay dying. Promises to avenge them. Promises to kill you. And so I go down the list, scratching names off one by one.”

“Are you going to kill me, then?” Mike said.

“Not yet,” said the Jaw. “First, the Beast needs to speak with you. And I have a couple more passengers to pick up.”


	17. Reckoning

Eren tested a rock with his foot, putting pressure on it until he was sure it would hold. He hopped down, then offered Historia a hand.

The path from the mine entrance had ended abruptly, cut off by a jumble of broken rock and smashed pieces of boulder. “Landslide,” Eren had explained. Now they picked their way across the steep, jagged side of the foothill, travelling downwards toward a vague point below them, where the path picked back up.

As Historia shuffled off one rock to another, her foot accidentally dislodged a pebble. It went skittering down the slope, bouncing off a couple of other stones on its way. Historia winced as a few more rocks went rolling down, but after a few seconds, the hill grew calm again.

“Maybe we should stay up by the mine entrance,” she offered.

Eren considered this for a second. “We gotta get food,” he said. “If you want, I can go try to find something, and you can stay up there.”

She shook her head. “No, we should stick together.”

 “Okay,” he said. “Come on, it’ll be okay. We’ll be careful.”

He smiled at her, the rays of the setting sun painting his cheeks and ears in a sort of crimson glow. Behind him, the sky was filled with streaks of purple and dark blue. The sun, sinking below the horizon, seemed softer than usual.

And there was a little black speck in the sky, moving towards them.

“Eren,” she said. “What’s that?”

He craned his neck around to look. “Looks like some kind of plane,” he said. “Don’t worry, Historia. They won’t be able to see us from here.”

 

* * *

 

In the sleek black bi-plane of the Jaw, Mike Zacharias looked down at the massive canyon that jagged beneath them. “The Great Gorge,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to see it like this.” From their vantage point, they could see it spread out in full. A massive crack etched into the landscape. _It truly looks like a scar,_ Mike thought. _Like two halves of the Earth were just wrenched apart._

Railway bridges darted across the Gorge here and there, as little locomotives chugged along the track. From their height the trains looked like toys, small puffs of steam rising from their smokestacks. On one side of the Gorge lay a village that Mike dimly recognized as Shiganshina, an old mining town which he’d visited once or twice. In the rays of the setting sun, the orange-brick houses seemed to shine, lovely and golden.

Next to him, the young man, Colt, was ruffling around in his satchel. He took out a thin spyglass.

“What are you looking for?” Mike asked.

Colt glanced at him but didn’t answer. From the front seat, the Jaw spoke with a quiet, lilting tone. “Oh, you never know what turns up in these hills.”

Mike peered over the side. “It’s too dark to see anything, anyway,” he declared. The foothills around Shiganshina were basked in twilight.

“Actually, I think the darkness will make this easier,” the Jaw said. “I told you this plane was made with a certain type of mineral, didn’t I?” He didn’t wait for Mike to respond. “This mineral… is quite rare, let’s say. And when it encounters more of its kind… well, it likes to call out.”

Mike squinted. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Moments later, the dark wings of the plane began to glow. Thin blue luminescent streaks emerged, snaking up and down around the plane’s whole body. In between the streaks, little light blue speckles shown against the black. Mike recoiled, muttering in confusion.

The Jaw merely smiled in the pilot’s seat, as Colt scanned the horizon with his spyglass. Around them, the plane started to emit a low hum.

“Found ‘em, boss,” Colt said. He put the spyglass down and pointed. Mike followed his gaze. There, in the foothills far beneath them: a little blue twinkling light.

“What is that?” he asked.

“Mike Zacharias, I’m afraid it’s time for you to go to sleep,” the Jaw said. Colt began to rummage around in his satchel. Mike blinked and felt a line of sweat spring to the back of his neck. “Go to sleep?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” the Jaw said. “We can’t have you causing trouble for this next part.”

Colt’s hand had come up from the satchel. In his palm he had two small pills.

Mike stared at them.

“I’ve treated you amicably so far, and I’d like that to continue,” the Jaw said. “I promise the pills won’t kill you. If I wanted to do that, I’d simply throw you out of the airplane.” He laughed. “They’ll only put you to sleep. Just for a little while. Now be a good man and take the pills, or I’m afraid Colt here will have to get violent. And we don’t want that.” The Jaw hesitated. “And remember, neither does Rico.”

There really wasn’t much of a choice. Mike opened his mouth and let Colt place the two pills on his tongue. The young man kept watching him as Mike tipped his head back and swallowed.

“Very good,” he heard the voice of the Jaw say, his voice soothing, lulling. “Sweet dreams, Mike Zacharias.” And the dark sky in his vision faded to black.

 

* * *

 

“Historia! Your crystal!”

She had felt it too, instantly—the small blue stone around her neck, coming to life, pulsing and thrumming violently, with a blue glow that was impossible to hide. “Something’s wrong, Eren,” she said, clasping a hand around it, desperately trying to hide the light which eked between her fingertips.

Up in the sky, the small black speck was now shining that same blue. She motioned up at it, and Eren turned.

He considered it for a moment. She saw the lines of worry on his forehead. He turned back to her. “Let’s go back to the mines,” he said. “Quickly.”

“What do you think it is?” she asked, as they clambered back up the side of the hill. “What’s that plane? Do you think it’s the pirates?”

“I’m not sure,” Eren said. He pulled to a stop, suddenly. “Historia, the men chasing us earlier, on the bridge. Those weren’t the pirates… that was the military, right? Are you sure they’re trying to take the crystal? Maybe this is all a big misunderstanding, and they’re actually trying to protect you. If you just explain the spell to them—”

“Eren,” she said. “They murdered my sister.”

Before he could reply, there was the sound of scraping. They both looked up, directly into the barrel of a rifle. Standing above them was a young man in military uniform. “Hey!” the man shouted. “I found them! Marlowe, Hitch, over here!” He poked the gun at them. “Now, kids, don’t do anything stup—”

Eren lunged upwards and yanked on the barrel of the rifle. The soldier gave a yelp as he was tugged downwards, losing his footing. Historia felt his body slam into her—there was a brief moment of pain and confusion—and then her elbows slammed against pebble. She heard the soldier scream. And then the whole side of the hill was _sliding_.

There was a clamor of rocks and boulders around her, and the very ground beneath her feet shifted. She screamed in terror and curled up, instinctively, her arms around her head, her body crunched over. Dirt poured over her.

Presently, the commotion stopped.

She looked up, searching her surroundings, desperately. A few feet away, the rifle lay snapped in half, like some discarded tree branch after a heavy storm.

A few feet past that, Eren lay on his side, facing away from her. He wasn’t moving.

“Eren,” she cried out. She crawled on her hands and knees toward him. Her fingernails were caked in dirt, and her skin felt raw as it touched the ground. It seemed to take forever to reach his side. She turned him, gently.

His eyes were closed. There was a long, red, gash on his forehead.

She felt for a pulse, her heart hammering in her throat. His pulse was there. His breathing was pained, but steady.

She stayed with him, propping his head up, as distant lights in the background grew steadily closer, as the sun sank beneath the sky, until military trucks pulled up by the side of the path.

Eventually, there came the crunch of boots on gravel.

“Oh, Krista,” a voice said, breathy and familiar. “This is why you don’t run from me. It only means people getting hurt.”

She looked up.

Framed in the headlights of a vehicle were two men. One, she recognized. Thin, spectacled, with tufts of blonde hair growing in a patchy beard.

Zeke knelt down beside her. “No more running, okay?”

She nodded, soundless.

Behind her, the second man spoke. “You want me to take them to Utgard? My plane’s getting a bit crowded.”

Zeke stood. “No. You’ve done enough, Porco. You have Erwin's spy with you?”

“Sleeping like a baby.”

“Perfect. Throw him in one of the lower cells… some place where people won’t find him. The last thing I need is some hapless soldier stumbling across him during the meeting.”

“Got it, chief. And these two?”

Zeke glanced down at Historia and Eren. His eyes were masked behind his spectacles. “These two are coming with me,” he said.


	18. Sleepless Night

The fortress of Utgard sat atop a great limestone cliff that overlooked the sea. Far below, waves crashed against the rocks. The ocean was often peaceful in this area, but not tonight. Tonight, the waves were loud and raucous, and the air thrummed with energy. It was as if the Earth was restless, as if something deep below the crust now stirred in its sleep.

Above the waves, in one of the slender towers of Utgard Castle, commander Erwin Smith stared out from a stony windowsill.

This fortress had once lay along the border between the great nations of Eldia and Marley. It had been jointly operated; a place for meetings, diplomacy. Treaties had been signed here, royal dances thrown in the spacious ballroom. Erwin closed his eyes, remembering. He’d been a newly minted member of the Air Brigade back then, in the days of his youth.

If only he could live that time again.

If he had the power to roll back the clock, it was to those royal parties he’d return—those carefree celebrations of life. At one of those parties he’d met Levi Ackerman, a black-haired cadet stolen from the criminal underground, granted clemency in return for military service.

Levi. The man had never danced at any of those parties. Just stayed at his table, wearing a permanent scowl. None had dared approach him, except for Erwin.

 _I would re-live those nights, if I could,_ Erwin thought. _Those are the ones I’d choose._

On one of those nights, Levi and Erwin had come up to this very tower, sneaking away from the celebration. They’d stared out at a night sky, just like this one. And Erwin had told Levi everything. His dreams, his hopes, his fears, his ambitions. His idea for an elite group within the Air Brigade, a group known as the Survey Corps—it was Levi who’d pushed Erwin to finally propose that to the generals.

He and Levi had spent that whole night together. They’d spoken of many things.

But that was all in the past. Soon after that night, there had been border clashes between Eldia and Marley. National tensions had risen, some Marleyan archduke had been shot. And the whole world had descended into chaos.

Utgard Castle no longer lay on the border between Eldia and Marley. The Marleyan territory had been annexed by the Eldian Empire, the entire nation of Marley annihilated. Now Utgard was the base of operations for the Eldian military, the place where the three branches—Air Brigade, Garrison, and Military Police—all met to finalize strategy.

There would be one such meeting, tomorrow morning.

They’d received a telegraph from Shiganshina. Zeke had recovered the crystal, and Operation Coordinate would continue.

They were all coming here, all the leaders and aristocrats of Eldia—the most powerful men in the entire world. Erwin closed his eyes and stepped back from the windowsill. He reached across and massaged the stump of his right arm, feeling the prickles through his shoulder.

Things had been very simple, once. Before Levi. Before the war.

Before Laputa.

 

* * *

 

Miles away from Utgard lies the city of Trost. Both are on the same coastline; both, tonight, are visited by the same restless waves.

As Erwin stared out at the night sky, haunted by memory, unable to sleep—at the same moment, Rico Brzenka stared out from the window of her apartment. Below her, the gaslight lamps illuminated the black-brick streets. The city at night is beautiful. But also, large, lonely, and cold.

She would like to move from Trost. Perhaps to Mitras, the capital, where college students flock to never-closing bars, where people laugh and dance in jazz clubs and comedy cellars and restaurants. In Mitras, the gaslight lamps have been replaced with electric ones.

 _Or maybe I could move out to the country. Someplace pleasant, like Shiganshina_. Hike in those famous foothills, where the sun sets and paints the sky crimson. Travel down the Great Gorge on a minecart lift elevator.

 _Anywhere,_ Rico thought. _I’d move anywhere to get away from this barren place._

She just needed to convince Mike to move with her.

But he never would, she knew that. He’d devoted his life to the cause. Rico would quit the Garrison in an instant—become a carpenter, artist, welder, whatever. The military offered her nothing but steady pay. But to Mike, it was more than that. To him, the Air Brigade was something greater.

 _That’s the problem with men,_ Rico thought. _They aren’t rational_. She took off her glasses and examined them. One of her lenses had a small grey smudge.

 _Maybe I’ll just move without him,_ she thought.

There was a loud series of knocks on her door.

Rico turned, frowning. She paced across the apartment, her hand hesitating over the doorknob. _Who would… at this time of night?_ “Mike?” she asked, hesitant.

“Rico,” a voice said. “It’s me.”

She opened the door. In the hallway of her apartment stood Annie Leonhardt.

 

* * *

 

“There’s no time to explain,” Annie said, as she rushed down the stairwell. Rico followed close behind, still fumbling with her coat.

“There’s always time to explain,” Rico said. “Explain as we go.”

Annie shot her a glance. but started speaking, while she leapt down stairs two at a time. “It’s Mike,” she said. “He’s in danger. Rico, you know that I was working with Mike on an investigation, right? We both report to Erwin.”

“I figured as much,” Rico said, trying to match Annie’s pace.

“He was kidnapped, earlier today,” Annie said. “We were supposed to meet up with an informant, in a church. The location must have been compromised somehow. There were some of _his_ men, waiting for us.”

“Wait, hold on,” Rico said. “Some of _whose_ men?”

Annie looked back, stopped running, came to her side. “Zeke,” she said, staring Rico in the eyes. “The Beast.”

An uneasy feeling went down Rico’s spine. Beads of sweat tried to break through on the back of her neck, even in this wintry air. Her hands felt clammy. “Okay,” she said. “What do we do?"

“Follow me,” Annie said, reaching for the front door of Rico’s apartment building. “There’s no time to waste.”

They emerged into the cold night, Rico wrapping her coat around her. Pressed up inside one of the pouches, she felt the metal touch of a pistol.

Mike had slipped it there one night, winked at her.

“I have my own guns,” she’d said wearily.

“Not guns like this,” he’d replied. “Small. Quiet. Concealed.” He’d patted the coat pocket. “For protection.”

_For protection._

She followed Annie down a side street, both of them still running. They turned from the side street into a thin alley. The gaslight barely shown here. Annie gestured at a doorway, the back exit of some local inn. “There,” she said. “We need to hurry. I think they’re going to torture him, Rico. You go first.”

In the darkness of the Trost night, Rico held up the little pistol Mike had given her, pointed it at Annie, and thumbed off the safety with a _click_.

Annie froze.

“...do you really think I’m that stupid?” Rico asked.

Annie said nothing.

“If Mike was kidnapped, and you just happened to get away, the first thing you’d do is report to Erwin,” Rico said. “And the last thing he’d have you do, is come tell that to me.”

Annie was staying very still, one hand still gesturing to the door, the other lying idle by her side. Rico watched her hands very carefully.

“I think what’s happening,” Rico continued. “Is that you’re a double agent, working for Zeke. And Mike has been captured or killed in the line of duty. And you’ve come to kill me, because you’re not sure if he’s told me anything, and you need to tie up any loose ends.” Her hand was shaking, but just a bit. “Is that right, Annie?” she asked.

“Put the gun down, Rico,” Annie said. “Mike’s in danger. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“On the contrary. I think clearly all the time.”

There was a very long pause. Far in the distance, the sound of honking. Automobiles on some far-off, black brick street.

“There’s no fooling you, is there?” Annie said.

Rico’s hand shook—she brought her other hand up to quell it. “Why?” she said.

Annie let out a long, tinkling giggle.

It echoed off the narrow alleyway walls.

“Oh, Rico,” she said, finally. “It’s not something you would understand.”

And she whirled, a knife in her sleeve—impossibly quick, but impossibly predictable—and Rico pulled the trigger once, twice, six times.

The body of Annie Leonhardt slumped to the ground in a dark alleyway of Trost.

Rico stared. The person who’d taught her martial arts, who’d introduced her to Mike at the boxing ring. The person she’d been honored to call a friend.

“Try me, Annie.” Rico said.

She turned and walked off, pulling her coat close. The body behind her, swallowed up by the darkness.

The city was beautiful, at times. But tonight, it was miles wide. And each street block was empty and cold.


	19. Princess and Monster

**Utgard, morning**

As a child, she’d dreamed of being a princess.

Her sister, Frieda, had read a story to her, years ago. A girl locked away in a stone stronghold guarded by a cruel and jealous monster. Now. Historia looked out the window of a tower, in a castle which jutted above the sea.

Sometimes dreams do come true.

The crystal still hung around her neck. Zeke’s men had tried to remove it last night, only to withdraw their hands as the crystal burned them on touch. Zeke had watched, a half-smile on his lips. “It seems you are the crystal’s chosen master,” he’d said. “How strange, that a young girl on a farm happened to become the key to Laputa.”

She’d replied to him, with a courage she didn’t know she had.

“Accidents happen.”

His smile had grown wider. But he’d said nothing in response.

 

* * *

 

There was a swift, patterned knock on her door. _Dun dun dun-dun dun. Dun dun._ She turned as the door opened. Zeke strode into the room, flanked by two of his men.

She watched quietly as he selected a chair from the corner and pulled it over. He was wearing a crisp uniform today, and his unruly blonde hair had been trimmed. He sat down on the chair, then took a second to clean his spectacles, before glancing at her.

“How did you sleep?”

“Well,” she lied.

“Good. Krista, we are in Utgard Castle. Do you know where that is?”

She shook her head.

“It’s where the generals and royalty of the nation of Eldia meet to discuss strategy. And they are all coming here now. Do you know why?”

She shook her head.

He pointed at her. “Because of you, Krista. You and your magic crystal.”

She said nothing, simply felt the weight of it hanging from the back of her neck, heard the spell Frieda had whispered her echoing in her head. _What would they think if I told them?_ she wondered. _Would they believe me? Would they believe in a Spell of Destruction?_

Another part of her answered. _I think if I told them, sooner or later, someone would use it. They’d kill me to activate it._

Accidents happen.

Zeke had risen to his feet. He came over, stood next to her by the tower window. He put a hand on her shoulder. In a comforting tone, he said, “I know this has all been very difficult for you. Especially because of what happened with your sister.” He leaned down, so that his mouth was by her ear. He whispered conspiratorially. “Krista, I must tell you something…”

“…what happened to your sister, it was not an accident.”

She looked up at him, blinked.

He harrumphed. “You knew already, didn’t you? Of course you did. You’re a smart girl.”

She said nothing.

He let out a heavy sigh and wandered back to his chair. He sat down with a thump, then said, “You must realize, Krista I lied in order to protect you. There are bad men within the military. Some of those men are here now, in Utgard. They are the ones who killed your sister, and they will hurt you if they can. I will try to protect you, Krista, but you must do exactly as I say. Do you understand what I mean by that?”

This time he waited for a response, and the silence drew long, until finally she said, “I understand.”

“Good,” Zeke said. He hesitated, as if considering something. Then, he added: “There is one man, in particular, who is very, very dangerous. His name is Erwin Smith, and you’ll recognize him because he is missing one arm. This man is obsessed with finding Laputa. It has driven him insane.”

The distaste in Zeke’s voice was obvious. Even his careful, amiable tone could not hide that.

“My friend,” Historia said. “Eren. May I see him?”

“Who?” His brows furrowed. “Oh, the boy? You know we must send him away now, don’t you? He did well, protecting you from those pirates. But you’re safe here, and he… is a distraction.”

“I understand,” she said. “May I still see him before he leaves?”

Zeke considered.

 _Please,_ she thought. _I need to convince Eren to go home. Otherwise, he’ll never give up. He’ll follow me anywhere—and die trying._

“It would make me very happy,” she said.

“Very well.” Zeke gave in. “You may see him one last time.”

 

* * *

 

Niles Dok, head of the Military Police, stepped off the metal ramp. Behind him, the chrome airship glinted in the morning sun. There were little dew droplets in the grass beneath his feet.

His airship had landed at the small strip at the base of Utgard. In front of him, a paved road winded up the craggy cliffs, leading to the castle gate.

There was an automobile waiting to take him there. And, as he opened the vehicle door, he was surprised to find Erwin Smith already in the backseat. He rolled his eyes, then slid in, next to the Air Brigade chief.

“You really couldn’t wait to see me? It’s only a five-minute drive.”

Erwin gave a tight-lipped smile. “That’s why I must speak quickly,” he said. “Niles… last week, a member of my Air Brigade met with one of the government’s secret agents, a man who has worked with Zeke. This man claimed he had knowledge of Zeke’s motives. He said Zeke is working to bring about the destruction of Eldia.”

 _I would have liked some time,_ Niles thought, _to admire the dew drops—before being drawn back into this ridiculous world, with its plots and conspiracies. For heaven’s sake, we haven’t even reached the castle yet._

“Your sources are confidential, I suppose.” He hoped Erwin would notice the dryness in his tone.

If Erwin noticed, he didn’t acknowledge it. “I’m not currently in a position to reveal my source.”

Niles sighed, looked out the window. The car was chugging slowly up the cliff. He could hear the crunch of gravel beneath the wheels. “The war is over,” he said. “Marley is subjugated. Eldia’s dominance is unquestioned. I think you’re looking for enemies when there are none.”

“You don’t find Zeke’s motivations suspicious?”

God, the man was unbelievably stubborn. Niles struggled to collect his thoughts. “Zeke’s motives? I think he’s ambitious. Doesn’t mean he’s trying to destroy Eldia. How, exactly, would he do that, anyway? With what army?”

“According to legend, the ancients of Laputa had the power to wake giants from the Earth.”

Niles groaned. “Oh, save me.”

Erwin leaned forward. His eyes had an odd intensity. “Niles, after all the time and effort the crown has put into Operation Coordinate, you still don’t believe Laputa exists?”

Niles glanced forward at the driver. Erwin followed his gaze, gave a slight nod. _One of mine. Someone we trust._

Well, then.

Niles cleared his throat, and then said the thing which had been rattling around his head for quite some time. “Laputa? Operation Coordinate? You know what I really think? I think this is all an enormous waste of resources.” He practically spat the words. “Laputa is a children’s fairytale. It’s a myth. Think about it—I mean, just think about it, for one second. How would a castle float in the sky? Does that sound credible to you?”

Erwin said nothing.

“You and your soldiers, and your backroom espionage, and your conspiracies,” Niles said. “You know what I think? I think you and Zeke are both obsessed with delusions. And I’m not going to be involved.”

They were drawing near the castle gates.

“Why are you even here, then?” Erwin said.

“I’m head of the Military Police. I’m required to be here. So, I’m carrying out the job given to me.”

“How’s Marie doing?”

_…what?_

Niles narrowed his eyes. “My wife’s doing fine, Erwin.”

“You have two children, right? And a third on the way, I hear?”

 _Asshole. Don’t bring my children into this._ “Yeah.”

“If I recall correctly, you were going to be a member of the Air Brigade, originally. But you fell in love with Marie, a girl at our local bar. And you chose to protect that one woman, instead of joining the war.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Niles said. “Are you trying to guilt me, Erwin? I shamelessly chose the cushy interior job, and shamelessly survived to this day. I don’t regret it in the least.”

“I’m not trying to guilt you,” Erwin said, and smiled. “Actually, I respect you, Niles. You did what you had to, to protect what you love. But, just know. I will do the same. I will do whatever I have to do, to protect the thing which _I_ love.”

_What in the blazes are you up to, Erwin?_

Erwin reached over with his left arm, and patted Niles on the shoulder. “You keep carrying out your job. I wanted to give you a fair warning, that’s all.”

The car came to a stop. They’d arrived at Utgard. Niles watched as Erwin opened the door of the car and got out. _Don’t ask,_ Niles thought. _He wants you to ask. Don’t give him the satisfaction._

But curiosity got the better. As Erwin strode off, Niles called out after him.

“Erwin, you don’t have a family. What exactly are you trying to protect?”

Erwin turned. The morning sun caught the angle of his face, and for an instant granted him a sort of brightened outline. The dew drops in the grass glistened around his feet. Erwin said nothing, but rather clasped his left hand into a fist—the thumb facing outwards—and brought it against his chest, hard, silent—his mouth pressed into a thin black line.

The military salute of Eldia was supposed to be performed with one’s right hand, but Erwin had lost that arm during the war, and so his left would have to do.

The sun slowly disappeared behind a cloud. The dew drops in the grass faded to shadow. Then Erwin had turned back, striding across the castle grounds.

After a second, the driver asked, “Are you getting out, sir?”

“Yeah,” Niles said, wearily. “Yeah, I’m getting out.”

* * *

 

There was a pneumatic hiss as the tower elevator descended. Historia stared blankly at the stone walls which rose around them. Presently, they came to a stop, and the doors opened.

Eren was waiting at a small tableside.

When he saw Historia, he exclaimed, and leapt to his feet. He rushed over and pulled her into an embrace. She buried her face in his shirt.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said. “They wouldn’t tell me anything.”

She pulled back. The thin red bruise marked his forehead. “You got hurt,” she said.

He reached up to feel the bruise, then grinned. “Eh, it’s nothing,” he said. “People always tell me I have a hard head, anyway.”

She swallowed, then, remembering what she’d come here to do. “Eren,” she said. “There’s been a misunderstanding. Zeke is trying to protect me.”

His eyes turned hard. He stared at her, and slowly bit his lower lip. He said, “I don’t think that you believe that.”

“Please, Eren. Do this for me.” Her voice was steady. “Forget about Laputa.”

He shook his head. “I can’t forget.”

“You have to. Leave, Eren.”

“Hist—” he stopped himself. “Krista. I’m not going to leave.”

Zeke stepped forward. “I believe the lady’s made herself clear. We’ve booked you a train back to Shiganshina. You’re no longer required.”

Eren stared at her, and she saw the pain in his eyes, and felt the splinter in her heart, and swore to herself, that this— _this_ —was the last time. No one else would get hurt in her path.

Zeke reached down to his belt, drew out a little pouch which jingled in his hand. He tucked it into Eren’s pocket. “A token of appreciation. For your efforts.”

He turned, and stretched out his arm, guided Historia away. The last she saw of Eren were his eyes, still searching, trying to understand, and then the elevator doors closed, and she was being whisked far away.

Zeke spoke. “I know that was hard, Krista. Sometimes we have to do terrible things, to protect the people we care about.”

 _Krista,_ she thought _._

_A silly name for a silly little girl._

_Krista Lenz would never do anything to hurt anybody._

_I’m not Krista Lenz._

_My name is Historia._

_I’m the princess with a spell that can end the world. I’m the princess who fell from the sky. I put my friends in danger and got my sister killed._

_I’m the princess, and I’m the monster, too._


End file.
